


Haunted

by Trishields



Series: Haunted [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bisexual Male Character, Boys Kissing, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, French Kissing, Gay Sex, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Memory Loss, Memory Related, Multiple Relationships, Oral Sex, Overwatch - Freeform, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Temporary Amnesia, Touching, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-08 03:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 52
Words: 422,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10376781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trishields/pseuds/Trishields
Summary: After the explosion at Swiss HQ, Gabriel Reyes is 'rescued' by Talon, but, something seems to be missing. Namely, the better portion of his memories from the last several decades. He knows who he is, and who he was, but what is Overwatch? What was the SEP, and who is Jack Morrison? More importantly, why did they do this to him? When Talon fails to provide the answers Reaper's wanting, he sets out to get answers for himself, and maybe some revenge along the way, working out his own plans to suit his own needs. But, plans change, and a turn of events brings to question everything he knows and has ever known, not only about Overwatch or Jack, but also, himself.This is a shameless Reaper76 story about two old lovers turned enemies becoming lovers again, with some hopefully entertaining plot along the way. Widow might also really like Reaper. Oops. Expect Reaper-Widow to make something of an appearance.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published Fanfic, please be gentle on it. If you notice any spelling errors or typos, *please* let me know. I try to catch them all as I'm writing them, but I'm only human! Also, the lore may not be canonically correct, but I tried to get it as close as I was able before diverging off.

Memories come to mind as if collections of old Polaroids. No one uses Polaroids anymore. No one's used Polaroids in decades, but in his mind, that is what they are. Faded and brown, when he glances over them. Some of them, he can remember them as well as if they were yesterday, if he tries to, where as some things, some cherished memories, fade like ash from a blaze burning within his mind. Those memories sit in small dust piles, fractured, fuzzy, inconsistent piles of confusion. Suffering. It is something he has known now for years, and like death, he greets it as an old friend. Death is the only consistency that exists in his life at the moment. Well. Death and nightmares.

Pain is a constant guest that wreaks havoc across his body, both whole and yet not. He covers himself with a dark persona to keep people at bay. Most of the time, it works.

Unless you were Talon, of course. Talon seems drawn to his capabilities like a flies to a carcass. They can make use of him, and he knows it. Does he care if they do, so long as it gives him something to do, something to vent his frustrations upon at the end of the day? The pursuit to find answers is a constant goal that lingers in the back of his mind like an anchor, keeping him primed in his mission, however deadly and immoral it may be.

Whoever had to die to help him find what he needed, they would die. Sooner or later, he would have his answers, or they would all be dead. He hoped that if it came to that, that at least his revenge would soothe the rage that festers within him.

Rage, pain, suffering, death. It all sounded like a hilariously cliché, hilariously gothic set of themes from a previous era, filled with black nail polish, lipstick, eyeliner, sad poems and self-centered music. An era he might have once been drawn to, had it not faded out over the decades. Perhaps if he had not had the upbringing he had, or walked the path he had chosen.

 

Yet.

Here he was.

 

The man barely slept. Sleeping was something of a sparse commodity, but even when presented the opportunity, he rarely partook of it. To sleep meant to dream, and to dream meant to have nightmares. More ghosts from his past that he did not want to revisit. Every dream left him with something, a voice, a name, a vague memory fused with some kind of fear, none of which made any sense to the man except in very minute amounts.

Who was Jack Morrison?

This question was the highest on his list at the moment. Though he could not place how, or why, the man's name was embedded into his mind. Now and then, in his mind he could hear his voice, grizzly and commanding, and at others, far more gentle.

_He did this to you. Find him and kill him, Reaper._

Reaper.

It had been his moniker now for years. Decades. Reaper knew he was damaged, and in part, he knew why. Surely, it had something to do with the rather unfortunate state of his body, the pain that riddled it. He felt infected somehow by some dreadful kind of disease, but was never given the relief that death would bring.

_Overwatch._

They did this. They would pay for it, one way or another.

Like a broken record in his mind, these thoughts played again and again. An external alert broke Reaper from them, but he did not turn to look. The sound of Widowmaker's heels on hard concrete was as telling as words may have been. She strode across the room towards him, the moonlight of midnight causing her lithe shadow to stretch across the ground in a long, black streak beside her. Stopping just behind him, she looked over him. The rogue was poised at a broken window of this, this abandoned apartment building he had adopted for this particular mission. They were six stories up, in a ghost town. A remnant from the Omnic Crisis decades ago, no one lived here anymore. The town had been empty for years, and every building showed signs of age, of weak supports and battle. Bullets from chain-fed automatics littered walls in every facet of the city, and where they had missed, large craters from aerial attacks and bastion cannon-fire left their marks almost affectionately upon the streets and vehicles alike. It seemed like a strange place for anyone to be, but it was precisely why he was here.

“You plan not to sleep, again, Reaper?” Her thickly accented french tone drove into his ears like nails, invading the silence he had preferred seconds prior.

“What's it to you?” He growled out, his inhuman voice raspy and dual-toned as usual.

She made a small, careless hum of disapproval and shrugged, pacing away.

“I suppose that staying awake all night will make sure they do not find us first, doesn't it?”

“They're not looking for us.” He uttered back at her venomously. She had taken to lounging across an old, dusty sofa in front of a cracked holo-tele on the wall, which hung off of its supports.

“Exactly.” She replied thickly, indicating her meaning. They were safe here. He could sleep. She wanted him to, for some reason. He'd been staring down the street towards an old warehouse building. If Sombra's scans on the area were correct, there were still six levels beneath that facility, despite its shabby outside appearance. Six levels that all had heat signatures warmer than anything else that should have been around here. How coincidental, then, that three of Overwatch's old warriors had all managed to find their way to the closest airport in the nearest populated city, ten miles out from here, and then all miraculously left heading the same direction. Reaper pulled his eyes away from the window and looked to her where she draped herself, on her back on the sofa, her legs dangling over the side of it. The two were not friends. A mercenary and an assassin that happened to be on the same side, for now, and little more. Still, he could see that her cabin fever ate at her. Not because he cared, or because he took time to notice, but because, for all her quiet, arachnid-like elegance, she had a way of annoying him with her chatter. It had been too long without a kill, for her, and while they did not glean the same thing from it, it was clear that they both had a penchant for killing, and were always partial to the most successful kills. Her anxious nature made itself clear in the form of her chatter. “Do you think anyone else will come?” She asked, looking over at him. Reaper had come to crouch nearby to one of the walls, despite the furniture nearby that he could have used. He preferred not to disturb anything if he was able.

“No one that would matter.” He rumbled back. “Ziegler is here. Windhelm, and their _dwarf friend,_ the engineer. He will have already set up turrets on every level, if they're stationing here. If we want to catch any of them, we will have to wait until they leave. They will have to walk out at some point or another. One of them will need to get supplies.” She seemed to sigh, eyes rolling.

“So, you stare at them on the off chance that one of them might just happen to walk outside at...” She checked a small communications device latched to her left arm. “Three-twenty-eight in the morning, Reaper? And you will be watching them?”

“We're not asleep.” He argued.

“We're not _normal._ ” She replied smoothly, finally glancing at him, then at the unoccupied seats. “What is the matter with you, anyway?”

His hooded, masked face turned towards her, the bone-like gleam from it seeming brighter in the moonlight. “They're not normal. They're planning. Something tells me that they're awake as often as they can manage. Ziegler. Sombra said she was a... renowned doctor.”

Widow fixed him with a strange look, her brows furrowing, but then she smiled. It was a dark sort of thing, a devious look that he could not quite place. Perhaps she just thought him odd.

In a way, Widowmaker did find him odd, but not for the reasons he expected. That he truly remembered nothing of his life with them amused her. Much of what he knew of Overwatch now was what Talon had told him, and what Sombra gleaned from her intelligence. In a way, Widow could see the tragic irony in it all, and it amused her more than he would ever know.

“Take a seat, Reaper. The floor isn't any more forgiving, I can promise you.”

“It's dirty.” He rebuked. Fastening him with a hard look, the irony did not escape her. Yes, the corpse with his decaying skin-flakes and black ooze-shadow didn't want to lay down because it was dirty. Once more she rolled her eyes.

“Suit yourself. It's your plan. If you fail it because you're exhausted, it will be your hell to pay, Reaper, not mine.” She rolled over, facing the back of the couch and let her eyes drift shut. Sleep came in a matter of minutes. He had been present for her sleeping multiple times now, and each time, tried to abstain. This time, however, he could be wrong to argue. Talon often assigned the missions, told them where to go, how to work, who to kill. This one was different however.

_You have good strategy, Reaper. That much is obvious from what you've done with our troops. You will take this mission. Take widow with you. Find out what you can. Bring one of them back for interrogation. We don't care who... Fail us, and there will be hell to pay._

He was already paying hell, he felt. How he even knew to command or estimate the actions of others eluded him entirely. It was as though it was part of his innate abilities, and yet, he knew it wasn't. Gabriel Reyes remembered his name, his purpose. He remembered vaguely that he had joined the military as soon as he was able, but almost everything after that had become a blur. The last solid memories he had were from when he was no more than twenty. Everything after that were shattered, broken images, flashes, some painful, some pleasurable. It was something like a jigsaw puzzle, but all of the truly crucial, defining pieces that would help him understand had gone missing. He was a soldier then. He was a soldier now. A Ghost. Pronounced dead. This wraith... thing. Talon had been the open arms that had extended to him when he woke from his sickened stupor.

_We have a job for you. We can help you find answers._

So far, they had helped him glean some. Overwatch was responsible for what he was. They had done this to him, somehow. A man named Jack Morrison, whose name haunted him, was said to have lead Overwatch. Reaper had no doubt that Jack Morrison, whoever he was, knew more about him than Talon was letting on. But there was just one problem. Morrison was dead. Destroyed in the abysmal explosion that had taken, or nearly taken, Reaper's life as well. There was a rumor that Overwatch was reforming, and at its head, Winston, a renowned, genetic scientist that Reaper had come to loathe over their past encounters. Ziegler, however... He had not spoken to her yet. Perhaps he would. Perhaps she would know something about Jack Morrison. Perhaps she could tell him what Overwatch had done to him. Talon wanted them for interrogation. They had every intention of putting an end to this little uprising before it got started again.

_They did this to you, Reaper. They did it to others, too. They will do it to more. Do you want to see that happen?_

_No._

_You will find the answers you seek with us... And you will find your revenge._

_And when you're done with me?_

_When we're done with you, you'll be free. On your way to do what you want._

Reaper had agreed, of course. It was all that he wanted. He had no need for money or a home. He did not stay in one place for very long, and he did not, indeed, could not eat. For some reason, killing others seemed to heal and rejuvenate him in a way he could barely explain. His body always became a bit more solid and stronger, he always felt more _alive_ after he killed someone.

 

~

 

“It's the same for me.” Widowmaker had said once before, on a different mission as they stood in waiting for their ride to come and pick them up. “It's never the same... For a moment, I feel powerful, strong again, like something's been replaced in me that I lost. But then sometimes I hear a name in my head.” She shook her head, long blue hair falling over her shoulder.

“What name?” He had asked. She had looked back at him sharply.

“Gerard.”

“Who's that?” he had pried.

“I have _no_ idea.” she had replied, looking away. It was clear that this struck a chord.

“Don't you want to know?”

“No.” She had answered immediately, nearly cutting him off.

“Why? Don't you think it would help? Don't you think you'd feel better?”

“I feel better when I land the shot, Reaper. If Gerard was someone who mattered, he would be here, and not Talon. Don't you think? Who are you to judge what they have done for us, anyway?”

“ _Done for us?_ ” he echoed. Her bright yellow eyes leveled on him sternly.

“Given us work. A home. Something to do that soothes us. Something that will ease our pain. What would we do without it? People like you and I cannot walk around with common people. We are monsters to them. Nothing more. No one is here to save us, Gabriel.” Hearing his actual name on her tongue caused him to growl, his talons curling into his palms.

“ _Reaper._ ” he corrected. Whoever he was before had lead him to this demise. He was not that man anymore. “ _And you hardly seem to show pain. You hardly seem to show much of anything.”_

“Not all pain is physical, _Reaper,_ don't be so naive.”

“So you don't want answers?”

“No.”

“Because-?”

Exhausted with his questions, she barked at him. “Because there are no answers. Talon is my home now. Talon is all that I have and all that I want. My job is my life. That is all there is for me....” She stared him down sharply. “You are like a dog who chases his tail, but whose tail is too short to reach. You should give up your search. Ally yourself with Talon as I have. They will take care of you.”

 

~

 

The memory faded. They had not talked much since then. Though they had a shared comfort in some things, their allegiances were particularly different, keeping them slightly distant. His back rests against the wall, his knees bent and the soles of his heavy boots pressed to the floor. His head drifts back and his elbows prop up on his knees, talons interlacing. He lets his eyes close.

 

~

 

“ _I'm not sure about this, boss. This don't seem right. I reckon we should ask Jack.”_

_“Do your fucking job. I'll talk to Jack when I damn well please.”_

The southern twang of the former voice taunts him like a loaded gun. He knows that voice, almost intimately. There is a flash of red and a scream, someone's face blurs into his vision, eyes wide and full of terror. Behind him in the dark, watching, there is a blotted figure, black and shadowed, barely clear if not for the hot cherry of a cigar and a tilted hat. He doesn't look on. He can't stand this.

“ _Ready to talk?”_

A muffled cry and a head shake, and struggling, Gabriel's muscles twitch in response to the nightmare.

“ _No? Alright then. Lets see here... Lucky number eight, then... Your smile, Pendejo... You're really doing a number on yourself.”_ As he worked on the man, he began to hum a tune, an old classic song that he had gotten addicted to as a child. This seemed to horrify the man even more.

_“Pain, without love..._

_Pain, I can't get enough._

_Pain, I like it rough_

_'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all.”_

 

Another scream and the sound of wrenching bone, the cold sensation of metal on his palm all comes back to him.

 

~

 

Reaper wakes once more, his eyes staring out across the floor. It's only been a few minutes. If he drifts off again, he knows it will pick up where it left off. Or, the worse option, it'll start anew, or pick another, more discomforting set of memories.

No, it's true that Gabriel barely remembers who he is, but from what he's gathered so far, he knows that Widowmaker is right.

They're monsters.

He was one of them.

Now? Perhaps he still was.

 

These memories of his, or what's left of them, taunt him on a constant basis. Every time they happened, he got a little bit more back, but so far, he wasn't too pleased with what his mind was turning up. Everyone's face elicited some kind of painful feeling that he couldn't explain. Sadness, rage, something in between. They would answer the questions for him where Talon failed to do so. So far, Sombra seemed the most plausible means of extracting information, but she was expensive, and beyond any doubt, he knew she was in this for her own gain too. They all were, in a way, though Widow's gain evaded him. She had given up on any chance at revealing the truth of herself...

 

That night provided nothing. No one came or left from the mysterious warehouse, and over the devices pinched into their ears, Talon grew antsy. This was a waste of time, they seemed to suggest, but Reaper rebuked. They were here. One of them would be caught. Perhaps even more. He was patient enough to see his plan through to the end. They, however, were insistent. He relented, if barely.

“Deploy the net drones when I tell you to.” He was saying to Widow now as they prepared to make a move at last. “Ill give them a reason to come out,” growled the wraith.

“You're not afraid?” She drawled, her hand gesturing as she spoke. “A doctor, an engineer with turrets, and a very large, very angry German man. It might be too much, even for you, Reaper.”

He scoffed at her, but behind his mask, it could have simply been him clearing gross miasma out of his throat. To clarify, he glanced at her. “It's a distraction. Not suicide. Besides... They haven't killed me yet. Not for not trying.” He reminded, eager to get started.

“And Sombra?” Widow asked.

On queue, the accented hacker chimed in over their comm lines. “Sombra online. Keep your baguettes bunched, sweetheart, I'm not going to let them slip through our claws.” She all but crooned. Widow rolled her eyes at Reaper, then canted her head. Beneath his mask, he smirked.

_“Showtime.”_

 

He became a ghost as easily as breathing, and slipped out through the cracks in the nearby window. Gliding effortlessly downward, he made his way from rooftop to rooftop, only becoming solid when it was necessary, and stopped at the edge of a building that overlooked the warehouse, directly below. Turrets on every level, at least six story's worth. Dawn had just broken over the horizon, making everything either a shade of gold or grey within this bleak, urban battlefield. A ghost town, shadowing its former glory. The glow from Reaper's boots and shotguns caused a faint contrast in the hazy light, and as he walked, dust scattered at his feet and clouded up around him, mixing with the darkened flourishes that lifted up and off of his frame before dissipating. The turrets would be the alarms, but if he set them off, that would give the big grandpa a chance to jump into his armor. Reaper didn't want to deal with that. Plus, it would make capturing him even easier. Could the nets even contain Wilhelm's sheer size and strength, he wondered? They'd find out, anyway. Angela, codename “Mercy” was his preferred target. She was smaller, and without her pistol and someone to protect her, harmless. She'd be even easier without her flight suit and her staff. He would try to keep those away from her.

Tapping his comm, he canted his head, barely spotting Widow on a distant rooftop. “You'll hate me for this.” He said to her, his gravelly voice seeming almost mischievous. “Load tranq shots. Use them for Windhelm. They'll send him to scout the perimeter, I'm sure.”

“What do you take me for?” She growled. “I do not carry that kind of-”

“ _This is a capture mission. I saw them in your ammo pack.”_

“You went through my things?” She snarled. He had no reply, and it was unlikely she could hear the ghostly chuckle he uttered from her distant. No doubt, she had been hoping not to be required to use those, but Talon had demanded it. Reluctantly, she loaded one. Reaper jumped then, becoming a wraith just seconds before hitting the ground, pushing himself into a vent. He couldn't keep this form for long, so he would have to try and get as deep as he could. Wheeling formlessly through vents and ducts alike, the man searched, burrowing even deeper into the building until at last he found them. Torbjorn and Reinhardt were on the fourth floor down. As he presumed, there were turrets, and more supplies than he could have ever expected to be here. The surveillance revealed something- they were expecting more to show up. They wouldn't have so much here if it was just them three. Something didn't feel right.

Then he saw it. A small black device shoved into the corners of each room. Cameras. Had they seen him? Reinhardt wasn't moving, but a small device on a bed beside Torbjorn had begun to glow... And beep. Quickly, Reaper withdrew, backing out as quickly as he'd come in. With any luck, no alarms would go off. Nothing seemed to.

“What's going on?” he heard Widow growl as the minutes ticked by. Growing weak in his wraith form, he returned to a solid state two buildings over, panting, exhausted.

“There is a compromise. Something I didn't expect. They have cameras on every level.”

“You didn't care about being seen before...” She tried to reason.

“No. I don't. But if they wake up before I get to her, they could make it impossible for us to get in and out with any of them... And I think they're expecting more. There is a device... Something that's scanning the building for them I think. It started to alert to me before I was even in fully. Like it sensed a difference...”

His words were cut off as Sombra interrupted, she sounded almost annoyed.

“Textbook style scanner. They must know that you're hunting them, Gabe.” She said.

Hissing with the use of his name, he growled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that they're not stupid enough to sit in a building without thinking that Talon is going to follow them right to it. It's a precaution. The scanner probably picks up changes in air pressure or temperature. You ever seen _Ghost Hunters,_ Gabe?”

“No-”

“Oh _puhlease._ Don't tell me you don't watch those creepy gothic classic shows, Reaper. I've seen your profile.” He could practically hear her eyes roll.

“ _Show's all bullshit anyway._ ” he growled, having seen bits of pieces of the show when he was a kid. Really, people found those things entertaining? They always seemed so completely fake to him.

“Well either way. Same principle. You may not be an actual ghost but you fit right into it, babe.”

“I'm not your-”

“Shut up. I have something for you, anyway.” She barked, and he bristled with anger. Talking with Sombra always infuriated him. “Come back to the ship.” She said. Wordlessly, he and Widow both abandoned their posts. The ship was cloaked just outside of town, no more than a few blocks. With his ability to teleport and her grappling hook, it took them almost no time at all to get there. His heavy boots made themselves blatantly obvious as he stepped aboard, and Widow's heels clicked into place almost as quickly. As soon as the door shut, the ship was cloaked again. Sombra was there, leaning back in a computer chair, her feet up on the strategy table, a holotablet in her hand. “So. They have small, wireless cameras. Interesting.”

“You can't hack them?”

“Not without setting off the alarm. Don't you remember Volskaya?”

“This isn't Volskaya, and they're not protected by armed guards, or mechs.” Widow pointed out, coming to sit nearby. Reaper continued to stand, his hands getting twitchy at his sides. He was hungry. Using his form like this always drained him, and he would need to kill more soon to relieve himself.

“No, but that Torb... He's a smart guy. So is the good Doctor, hm? Anyway. I have an EMP device for you. It wont last long, and you'll have to drop it right on his sensor, but it should give you two enough time to get in and get things rolling.”

“Turrets on every level.” Reaper repeated.

“Yes. They'll be disabled for the duration, so you had better be fast.”

“And where is Mercy, exactly?”

“Not on one through four. Rein and Torb are on four. That leaves her at five or six... I can't exactly drag her up six flights of stairs in thirty seconds.” He hissed, knowing he was going to have to do most of the legwork for this one. “Especially not with two men trying to stop me.”

“Reaper. You're a little dense sometimes, aren't you?” She asked, and his hands curled into fists. He wanted to beat this little shit into a pulp.

“Spit it out, You-”

“Enough.” Widow said, looking towards Reaper then.

“Do you remember what you did for me?” She asked, his mask turned steely towards her in question. “In Madrid, right after King's Row.” She reminded. At once, all his nerves fired with rage, his brows knitting, talons pressing into his palms.

 

~

 

It was months ago. Widow had just successfully killed Mondatta, and Reaper had been deployed elsewhere with a pack of Talon's agents, looking for intelligence. Widow had joined them late, but she was there. A local enforcement bureau had caught them however, and tipped off the eagerly chasing Overwatch vigilante's to their arrival. So, despite the deployment of OR15's to the sight, they also had to contend with Lena, “Tracer” Oxton, and one severely angry Gorilla, Winston, who it was rumored, was leading the rebuild of Overwatch in the first place. Flighty agents terrified of Winston had split up, causing him to chase them. Reaper had taken on Tracer in a fierce stand off, but she was small, and fast, and he, even with his abilities, had trouble landing shots on her. Widow had seen to distract her, firing shot after shot towards the speedster, narrowly missing Reaper in the process. He had become a black mist at that point, a whirling, spiraling, hateful ball of death. Everything in his immediate vicinity shook ad then disintegrated with in the spray of his shotguns. He could hear his own laughter echo hollowly through the room as bots scattered and broken, and among them, he heard a shrill cry, a wail of pain that rose up out of the darkness around him and caused his eyes to pin on her. Tracer, with blood leaking down her thigh. Beneath his mast, his smile split into a wide and hideous thing. His laughter grew and he focused on her. Stepping out of the mist, she became his only target, his shotguns raised, he was bloodthirsty. As he closed in on her though, she did something he did not expect, activating the rewind on her chronal accelerator. Suddenly, she wasn't there anymore, but seconds prior, unharmed, and now dashing madly away. She fled up onto the balcony where widow had been taking aim. There was a small click and she suddenly shouted.

“Here you go!” And then she was gone, darting away.

The seconds between Reaper and Widow hung like years between them, she looked at him, and he looked up at her. They both knew that in a second, she would die. Talon would lose its most valuable operative, and Reaper, in his mind, realized he'd lose the only person who spoke to him that he didn't completely hate.

Without thinking, without hesitation, he reacted.

The dark shape of his body warped and shifted, becoming a ghost, and in mere moments, he was on the balcony with her, his talons latching onto her arm, he jerked the sniper away from the explosive, tucked her into his chest and closed his eyes. He did not know if this would work, and for all he knew, it might kill her.

He teleported.

With her clutched against his frame and entangled in the depths of his shadow, he warped himself, and hopefully them, as far away from the spot as he could manage, outside of the building a block away. They both collapsed the second the teleport was done, with Reaper losing consciousness almost immediately. Teleporting himself was easy over short distance, but teleporting someone else with him, more than a hundred meters or so? He felt like he was going to die. His insides revolted against him and felt torn. Rolling onto his back, he choked on his own bile, forcing him to roll onto his side. As he did, black and red fluid spilled out of his maw like it may as well have been a sieve, draining through the nose hole in his mask, staining it, and pooling on the ground beneath him. Barely strong enough to hold himself upright, his arms trembled, he glanced over at widow. The woman was shaking, trembling all over her body, her eyes wide, pupils wider, her skin especially cold. She turned over to look at him. There was something there in her eyes that he had never seen before. Fear... And something else. The sniper's delicate fingers twisted into her palms and she looked down, tears now streamed down her cheeks as she broke down. “ _Merci, merci, merci.”_ She had breathed quietly as she trembled. Reaper ultimately choked up another load of bile that surely wasn't healthy. He needed to feed. She seemed to sense it as she looked at him. His arms were shaking, his shotguns had evaporated. Slowly, his coat was beginning to dwindle away. Was he dying? Part of him hoped so, because thus far, nothing else had completed the job. Widow seemed to be wondering the same thing as she looked at him, and they looked at each other. Black ooze still dripped from his mask and to the floor, and slowly, he pushed himself up, but his step wasn't his own, it wasn't solid. Tripping as he leaned against a concrete wall, he twisted his eyes towards the street. Still bloodthirsty from seeing Tracer _nearly_ die right in front of him, he did whatever he had to do.

Hungry, predatory stare lurked into the street, into the crowds that were still fleeing from the firefight nearby. Reaper produced his hellfire shotguns with what felt like the last of his strength, and without aim nor care, walked out into the fleeing mass of people and open fired. Screams rose in a horrendous roar around him, both exciting and relieving him. Blood sprayed and bodies fell. This would later be referred to in the media as 'a reaping'. As, this time, the renowned terrorist and mercenary seemed to (from an outside view) have no purpose to his killing except to be killing. As they died, he felt his body repair itself, slowly, bit by bit, and then faster, as his blood refueled itself, until finally, the street was empty, and everyone had run as far as they could possibly get from the man now huddled in a crouch on the floor, panting steadily.

As Widow watched from the alleyway, she couldn't help but think he looked as though he was on fire. Black sails of smoke and decay drifted up and off of him at almost every edge, out of his mask, through his clothing. His breathing slowed and finally, he looked towards her. Her expression was hard to read. It often was, but now, it puzzled him more than ever before. Somehow, Reaper did not feel good about having had to do this. But why? What did he care if these people died? What did they mean to him? They knew nothing about him.

It seemed no one did.

Tracer must have fled to aid Winston, or else realized she was outgunned, because she did not return. Widow and Reaper had been picked up in one of their ships minutes later. A report revealed that none of the other agents on that mission with them had survived. They had, however, recovered a small amount of intelligence, which had pointed them to a few places. Volskaya and Numbani, to name two.

 

Later that same day, as it was drawing into late evening, nearing midnight, Reaper was back in his 'quarters' at Talon's current HQ. The company never stayed in one place for long, and Reaper never called anywhere home, seldom lingering in the same place. But tonight after what had happened, he chose to stay in. They hadn't been home long, only a few minutes off the ship. He had phased right through his door without opening it, leaving Widow in the hallway, several doors down. The feasting had replenished him, and so his abilities, allowing him to more or less ghost around as he pleased. His room was nothing fancy. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, much preferring the darkness of it as he came into it, pacing towards the windows and drawing the curtains entirely shut.

A knock came at the door. Then another when he didn't answer the first time.

“Let me in, Reaper.” Came a thickly accented voice. Widow stood there now, her sniper rifle gone, she must have deposited it into her room before returning here. Her visor was also gone, proof of the drop off, as it were. He glanced towards the door, biting down the urge to ask why. Reluctantly, he unlocked the door, but did not open it for her. Hearing the click, she let herself in, and closed the door behind her. Golden eyes struggled to adjust in the darkness, so when she finally turned on the light, she spotted him just inside the washroom, standing before the sink.

“What do you want, Widow?” He asked darkly as he began to clean off his taloned gauntlets. A bottle of harsh rubbing alcohol, lemon juice, and some other chemicals were set out to get to cleaning his gear. She moved to the doorway just behind him and leaned against it.

“I did not know you could do that.” She said, and it paused his cleaning.

“Me either.” he replied back, finally removing the gloves.

Her eyes descended onto his hands, taken aback by them. It was the first time she had ever seen them. His skin was normally pale, but she noticed now as she noticed before, when he fed, it regained most of its dark, caramel tone. His skin had never looked as healthy as it did just now, she thought, looking at it. But besides this, the tips of his fingers were.... claw-like. His fingernails had grown into long, sharp claws, as if blackened bone, the fingers beneath them calloused and scarred over. She hadn't seen so many scars on a person before. An awkward silence hung between them as he cleaned the gauntlets, and soon his hands.

“Was that it?” He growled, and she looked up towards his face again, this time seeing him through the mirror.

“No.” She said finally, regaining some of her strength. “You saved me. I would not be standing here if you had not done that. I wanted to thank you. So thank you.”

His head tilted, half regarding her through the mirror.

“Don't thank me. You could have died. Might've. Probably should have.” He uttered almost venomously. She sharpened as she looked at him.

 

But then he looked down and reached up, taking off his mask.

It was the first time she had ever seen his face. His face... It was somehow familiar to her, but she couldn't place where or how, but he was nevertheless attractive. He had sharp features and a handsome, strong jaw. His goatee was relatively groomed, his eyes a deep chestnut, with hints of dark red throughout. From what she could see of his hair beneath his hood, it was short, but noticeably a little longer on top, hanging slightly forward without the mask there to keep it out of the way. Despite all this, his mouth and jaw, trailing down towards his neck was all stained with that same, red-black sludge he had been puking up earlier. She found herself speechless, mouth sitting slightly open despite the gore.

“What're you looking at?” He rumbled, his eyes meeting hers as he looked into the mirror. His hand snatched up a rag and doused it with water so hot that she was sure it would burn him. It didn't seem to do much more than cause a bit more blackened pollution to drift off of his flesh. He was cleaning off his jaw and neck, scrubbing where it had dried, and even using the alcohol and juice to get rid of the last of it.

Her breath sucked in and her bows popped, she looked away.

“Anyway... I... Well... I guess I wanted to talk about it.”

“What's there to say?” he didn't seem interested in a conversation. When was he ever?

“ _Bon sang, Reaper.”_ God damnit, she had hissed at him as he began to scrub clean his mask. It came clean much easier than his skin, and soon he was pacing past her, out of the washroom towards his bed, mask and gauntlets in hand, hood still up. Both were deposited onto a shoddy dresser across from the bed.

“If you're going to speak, speak. If not, get out.” he said, moving to the wall and dimming the light. She began to understand how much he preferred the dark.

“You made me _feel_ something, Reaper.” She blurted finally, trying to keep her voice down, despite that the other rooms around them were kept intentionally empty. It was as if saying it out loud was some sort of crime.

“Oh? Congratulations. Get out.”

“You don't even care to know what I felt?” She insisted. He sighed and moved to the bed, turning his back to it and sitting with a huff. He was leaning forward, unfastening his boots.

“No.” he rebuked quietly.

The pace of her heels quickened until she was suddenly in front of him, her hand came out and snatched his jaw by the scruffy hair of his beard. At once, a growl pulled out of his throat, but as soon as she tipped his head up, his hand came up to fasten on her wrist like a vice. It was too late, she leaned in, closing the distance and forced an abrupt, sudden kiss onto his lips. Stilled into shock, she felt his grip on her wrist waver, then tighten before he jerked her hand away with a wince. The kiss broke. He had not kissed her back. Their eyes met again.

“You daft moron.” She growled. “Thank you.” Then, she wheeled away from him and stormed out, waving her hand off. Stupid, attractive American man. He could have had anything he wanted from her if he had just asked. Instead, he had told her to leave. _Idiot._ His door shut and clicked behind her. Reaper found himself slightly taken aback, but said nothing, instead, only locking the door behind her. His shoes came off, and soon, so did most of what he wore in favor of sleep. Despite the nightmares it brought, he needed at least some of it to get by.

 

~

 

Now, here she was again, sitting in front of him in the ship, with Sombra across from her. He looked between them. Beneath his mask, he snarled, hands tightening into fists.

“You told her about that?” He snarled wickedly.

“She didn't have to tell me anything, Sweetheart.” Sombra hissed back. “It's on camera, remember? Anyone who's smart enough to find the leaked footage knows you can do it. Including Talon. Including me. You can do it again, can't you?”

“ _I almost died!”_ He insisted.

“Mmm, one might say you've almost died a lot of times, haven't you, _Gabe?”_ Every word she uttered seemed to set him aflame. He wanted nothing more than to throw her off the ship while it was in mid air. _Hack out of that, little girl._ “It's the simplest, easiest solution to the entire problem, don't you think? You get in, get Ziegler, get out.” She made a small gesture with her hands that he didn't appreciate. “ _Simple.”_

“If she dies?” he asked bitterly. Sombra shrugged indifferently.

“I'm sure we can think of something to revive her. If not? Eh. There are other Overwatch members, aren't there?” She was entirely careless to the Doctor's life. In a way, Reaper felt offended somehow, but he couldn't place why. By all means, he shouldn't care if she died either. Perhaps, he thought, it was because he supposed that if anyone, Ziegler was the one most capable of answering his personal questions.

But then. So could Sombra.

His eyes snapped to Widow, who seemed somewhere between wholly amused and only mildly concerned. He twisted away from them without a word and paced to the door of the ship.

“We have a job to do.” He fumed at the two. “Lets get on it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Three Day's Grace, their song "Pain."
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I welcome comments and questions and polite spelling corrections!


	2. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercy and Reaper get to know each other a little better in a less than friendly situation. The mystery begins to unravel itself, one excruciating detail at a time. Widow begins to wonder about Reaper's stability.

Showtime never came the way he wanted it to. This was suppose to be an easy job out in the middle of nowhere. But, who builds a six story underground fortress in the middle of no where, with turrets and cameras and on each level? Not to mention some kind of... ghost sensor? Overwatch does. This seems to settle any rumors with cold fact. They were planning something. But out here? That... That didn't make sense. That's what really bothered him about all of this. It didn't make sense for any of them to want to be this far out from anywhere. There was literally nothing here besides this broken town. There wasn't even electrical, or hard light advertisements. Hell, the rusting streets had cars with _tires_ on them. A sense of nervousness instilled itself into him. This all smelled wrong. The last time he'd done this, he hadn't even given it a seconds thought. In hind sight, maybe he should have let her die? No. As much as he disliked the company, he admitted that she helped him more often than not. They were partners whether they cared to be. Her kiss still lingered in the back of his mind, carefully sequestered into a catalog of 'things that don't matter.'

 _Just get in, get Mercy, get out,_ he told himself. Drop Sombra's EMP onto Torb's device, then finish the job.

_“Simple.”_

Such words really should be banned from regular use, he thought. Within minutes, he was back on the rooftop. The sun was higher now, but down in the shambles of broken skyscrapers and office buildings, it was still dark. Dark enough for him to work. This time, he allowed himself to dead-fall off of the roof, becoming smoke as he landed on the roof of their building and promptly sought out the nearest vent. He wound his way downward until he once again found the fourth floor. But, things had changed. Torb was awake and moving. The sensor had moved. Reinhardt was stirring too. There was little he could do that wouldn't give him away. Talon was impatient. They had wasted too much time, and all indicators suggested that the longer they waited, the stronger Overwatch became. This had been Reaper's mission, and it was slowly becoming Sombra's. How could he let that little wretch take over his show like this? Twisting through the vents, he searched and scoured, but he could not keep this form this long. Where was Ziegler? Already, he felt like he was going to choke, his vision blurring. He delved deeper, eventually reaching the sixth level, and there he found her, with Torb. But, the black mist that made up his form began to shift erratically, jerking and trying to reform itself. He had to coalesce, and soon. Rushing with a sense of panic, he made his way to the first unoccupied room he could, one room up, the fifth floor, a small bathroom closet. Dropping into his solid form, he panted, feeling his body become tough again.

_Beep beep._

He really needed just a couple minutes to get himself together, then go again. If he could wait until Torb was out of the room and away from her, this would be easy. Reinhardt was moving though, he could feel the man shuffle on the floor above, a heavy creak and groan with each step, the subtle sift of dust from the ceiling above him.

_Beep beep._

The EMP was still tucked into his coat, going with him where he went. If he could just find a way to reach them that didn't involve wraithing, this would be all too easy, but he was outnumbered and outgunned. He reached into his coat for Sombra's small miracle device, It was a small item with intricate carved wire workings and in the middle, a simple magenta toned button that glowed. Now all that remained was to find the-

_Beep beep beep._

SHIT.

The sensor was on this floor somewhere, and it had sensed him. Now, it was going off, and Torb would hear it at any minute. Without time to recompose himself, Reaper rushed out from the closet. Cameras caught him at once. The alarm went off immediately, an extremely high pitched wailing. He threw Sombra's little gift and let it go off. Everything, cracked with a brilliant purple light, the device, along with everything else in the room that happened to be electrical, sparking and glowing before falling into an abrupt silence. All at once, the alarm, the lights, the turret in the room that had engaged flickered off, deadened. Reaper wheeled, tapping his com. “Engaging. Things didn't go according to plan. Widowmaker, watch my back when you can. They will be on me in seconds.” Reinhardt was already thundering, anyone could hear it. Reaper spun down the stairs, heading to the sixth floor. He reached the door and threw the whole of his weight into a heavy metal-backed kick, throwing the door clean open and damn near off it's hinges. Ziegler shrieked. Already, two shotguns sat in either hand, each focused on one of the two there. Both Ziegler and Torb had their weapons drawn faster than he could have expected.

And so did the _Soldier._

Reaper hadn't seen him in person before. Indeed, he hadn't even existed until recently, but the man was unmistakable. Blue and white jacket, red, angry looking visor, white hair. Scarface. That was what Reaper had come to calling the vigilante the world had been talking about on the media. Images of him surfaced everywhere, especially on the net. Occasionally, he foiled Talon's plans, but research hadn't shown him affiliated with anyone.

What the hell was he doing here?

“Hello, Reaper.” The gruff, familiar voice called. Reaper howled with sudden rage. There was a pulse rifle aimed right at him. _How had he not seen him before?_

Suddenly, the room was in chaos. Ghosting was difficult at the moment, but he had no choice. He lurched forward as all three open fired, latching himself onto Ziegler, his arms coming around her like vices, his guns dropped for ease of his talons, which he opted to choke around her throat. Then, they vanished. The teleport wasn't far enough, however, he hadn't enough time, and managed only a couple floors up- floor three, before he suddenly reformed, momentarily losing Mercy. She scrambled away from him, but he launched himself at her, catching her and tumbling them both to the floor. She kicked at him and shouted. All three of her would be saviors were rushing up the stairs now. Reaper did what he had to, buckling a fist and aiming for the woman's temple. Despite her resiliant attitude, she went down with the hit. That it had worked so quickly was a blessing, but he couldn't be sure how long it would last, she could wake up at any moment. “Widowmaker! Watch the front door, I'm being pursued!”

“What the hell happened!?”

“Don't worry about it, watch the fucking door!” he snarled. Carrying the extra weight didn't exactly make him fast. Scarface, the vigilante, was on his heels. Bullets were aimed for reaper's legs, trying to trip and make him drop the good Doctor, as opposed to risking hitting her in the process. Finally, the top floor. Turrets were back on, and started shooting at once. Barreling through the doors, he heard the first sniper shot only milliseconds after. The old man was right there, and yelled out with a cry, dropping his gun. A growl later, there was a biotic field on the ground, and he was in it for only a matter of seconds before chasing after Reaper. Two more shots cut through the air before he was finally forced to take cover. Reinhardt and Torb were locked inside the building under the weight of Widow's aim. It looked as though Widow had decided to forgo the tranquilizer shots entirely in favor of something more lethal, as usual.

Sombra had seen the commotion and had their pilot navigate them closer to the two agents, now hovering loudly only a few feet off the ground in the middle of the broken street through which Reaper fled. The heat and push from the light engines caused dust and dirt to scatter in every direction, momentarily covering his retreat with the Doctor. The cargo bay door dropped open with a burst of cold air and bright light and he leapt onto it, panting, staring back at the lot of them where they stood through the cloud and tossing Ziegler onto the metal deck with a huff. Widow grappled up onto the departing ship just as a hail of bullets came after her, pattering the outside of the ship with metallic clinks and the promise of a ruined paint job, not that black paint was hard to find. Seconds later, they were stealthed once more and making a hasty retreat into the sky. Aboard it, Mercy had started to rouse. Widow, fed up with the blunder, put her knee into Mercy's back and handcuffed her properly. “You're not going anywhere, Doctor.” She said, plucking a similar comm device from Ziegler's ear and promptly crushing it. The woman thrashed.

“You wont get away with this! They will find you!” She barked, before widow suddenly kicked her hard enough to make Sombra flinch.

“Dios mío, Widow. You're going to break her neck.” Sombra whined, moving to scoop up the body and drag her into a seat where she was tied down. Widow turned on Reaper, her eyes were livid, lips curled back in a snarl.

“What the hell was that!”

“The vigilante's- he's there with them. I don't know how... or why. They had more supplies, for more people. He was there. It was an ambush, Widow. They were waiting for me. It's like they knew we were here.” He hissed, feeling his fists tighten. For a moment, Sombra stared at the two as they squared off, face to face, only a few inches apart from one another, neither of them backing down. It looked like they were going to tear eachother apart. With her traditional charm, she smiled, laughed and wormed her way between them, putting her hands on either of their chests, though Reaper violently batted the hand aside, causing her to look right at him.

“Look, friends. I'll be honest with you. I don't care if you hate eachother. I don't care if you kill each other. But that  _shit_ is not happening while I am on this plane, ok? Blow yourselves up later. Sure, it was a little sloppy. There were some... unexpected hurdles... But hey, mission complete, yeah? We have an agent. That should be good enough. Better than coming away with nothing, no? Come on now.” She soothed, but the two killers still glared at eachother. Ultimately, Reaper turned away first, stalking towards the back of the ship, finding a seat and tuning out. Widow, feeling as though she had won the stand off, strutted her way back up the cabin, around the strategy table to the seats up front where an unconscious, bruised Ziegler slept. Almost sweetly, she sat down next to her and began redressing the white hair, making it look presentable, as though that's how she would have preferred it, if she was being kidnapped too, and blotting blood off of an apparent split lip.

Reaper knew that as soon as they got back to HQ, he would have to give a full, complete report. The idea of enduring another lecture or reprimand was anything but appealing, but at the end of the day, it was not Sombra who had gotten her onto the ship, nor was it Widow who had gone down into the building. It was him. Hunger hit him again, interrupting his thoughts and causing him to stir uncomfortably. His eyes turned down to the exposed patches of flesh on either upper arm, where the straps of is coat ended and allowed his biceps to breathe. He was pale. Especially so. It had been a while since he properly fed, and he dreaded to see what he looked like under the mask today. Surely not as good as he'd looked after Madrid. As they flew, Reaper tried to reconsider everything he had learned.

Overwatch was rebuilding. The old vigilante was with them. They had ambushed him, waiting for him. Did they intend to kill him there? It seemed so. How long had they known that Reaper and Widow were in the city, and how had they found out in the first place? Why out here?

That question, the last one, revealed itself instantly as he stared at his paling skin. That was exactly why. This was premeditated. They had seen the leaked footage from Madrid, and had fortified a pathetic bunker in the middle of no where. Somehow, they had hired a little extra help and kept the Soldier stealthed. There were no civilians in broken, abandoned cities, and no none for him to feed from. No one to kill in an accident. No casualties except he and them. This had been a set up from day one. The thought of it boiled his blood entirely. Perhaps they were regrouping, but not here. This had been nothing more than a distraction, and a chance to catch Talon off guard. It had worked, too. How much time had they wasted scouting this location while Winston and whoever else fortified a new HQ somewhere? They had known that Reaper would be weak before this fight, somehow, given how long they spent not coming out, and they had known that during the fight, he wouldn't be strong enough to flee like he had before. They wanted all this to happen.

Even Sombra, for all her casual nonchalance, seemed a little perturbed by what had happened. No, this hadn't gone to plan at all.

 

The following days were dull, lifeless, and passed like heavy stones in a river. As they dragged on, hunger gnawed at the wraith. Talon had demanded the first interrogations with Ziegler, and for the time being, Reaper and Widow were left to observe and nothing more. Standing behind heavy, double-paned glass, the two agents looked in on her from the safety of a the one-sided window. She was already bloodied and beaten, and the halfwit interrogating her didn't seem to know how to get to her. Steely faced and menacing, the battleworn medic looked like she might just tear his throat out if he got too close to her teeth. Seated in a harshly cold, uncomfortable steel chair, her arms were bent over the back of it and chained in place, and her ankles bound, one to each chairleg. The more Reaper watched, the more embarassed he became at this man's pathetic attempts to coerce her into speaking. Before them there was a small table, and Reaper leaned against it, his gloved talons stretching out against it as he put his weight on it. Pensive and still beside him, playing with the tail end of her purple hair, Widow glanced at him.

“What are you thinking?” She asked as she looked back at Ziegler.

Without looking to regard her, Reaper replied back, his tone rolling out with a copious amount of black mist. It was always heavier when he was hungrier, and his voice took on a sharper edge.

“I think she looks like a woman ready to die to protect her friends. She's not going to give that imbecile anything he's asking her for.”

Widow's eyes slid back to him. “You think you could do better?” And with the question, a silence settled between them, and finally his mask turned towards her. He straightened up, slightly towering over the sniper as he looked down at her.

“You doubt my ability?” He countered. She laughed, shaking her head. The laugh itself was a rarity, and he found himself staring in confusion. Her emotions were so subdued and rare, managing anything more than a smile made him mildly impressed with himself.

“No.” She replied thickly, shrugging. “You just seem very... interested.”

“Interested?”

Her eyes dropped to the table, the window, indicating it. “You've barely taken your eyes off of her since we arrived.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous.” He snarled back at her before turning back to watch Ziegler. Widow scoffed at him.

“Don't be rediculous. I don't feel anything.”

“That's not what you said before.” He reminded. Eyes darkening, she glared at him, her body turning to face him, hand palming to the table.

“Oh? And now you remember? Now you care?”

“Remembering and caring are not the same thing.” He rebuked quickly, not looking at her despite her posture.

“Then what are you on about, Reaper?” She growled.

“You're a reckless, ungrateful piece of work, that's what.” he snarled finally, venting a hint of his frustrations. Her eyes visibly widened, and suddenly she had moved in front of him, interrupting his view of Ziegler and forcing him to take half a step back.

“Am I now? I kissed you, was that not enough? I offered you more, and you threw it in my face.” She hissed.

“I do not _want_ your affections.” His tone was like ice and now he glared right down at her, shoulders back and making him seem somehow even more aggressive. Canting her head, Widow studied him, wordlessly expecting more. Finally, he spoke. “What I did for you was a _one time thing._ It wasn't something I thought about. Perhaps if I _had_ thought about it, I'd have seen the merit in letting you die. I nearly died myself trying to keep you from getting blown apart by your _playground_ crush. Then, you decide it's a perfectly acceptable tactic in getting a target out of a red zone? In which I almost nearly die, again. _Whorish ingrate._ ” He snarled, his voice kept somewhat low, so that it wouldn't raise any alarm. Widow was staring at Reaper wordlessly, her brows slightly raised as if indicating only a faint amount of surprise at his insult. Behind them, the interrogator had just struck Ziegler again, causing her lip to start bleeding once more. In her outrage, she spat at him, hitting her mark and causing the man to recoil. The man was about to strike her again, out of retaliation, when Talon came over their comm's and called a halt.

 _“Reaper. We're going to try something... Different. Do some work on her.”_ They instructed. The two agents were still staring eachother down when the call came, and finally, he turned away from her, stalking out and latching his talons around another steel chair as he headed into the room. Widow shut and locked the door behind him.

Ziegler's head hung uncomfortably, but when she slowly came around it was to the sound of Reaper dragging the chair in behind him, wheeling it around, and sitting it upright in front of her. Almost casually, he came to sit in it. There was no need to bother with intimidation tactics here, since the other, lesser agent had already done a painful number on her to no effect. His talons folded together, elbows resting on either arm of the chair, gazing at her through his mask. The doctor's stare locked on the black pits of his mask where his eyes were meant to be. The black smoke that drifted off of him was familiar. The terrorist. The wicked murderer that had slaughtered countless people. Her face was unreadable, but there was no fear.

For the better part of five minutes they just sat there, staring at one another. Talon began to bark into his ear when Ziegler finally spoke up. Her voice was cracked with a need for water and a trembling pain that she'd been put through.

“Aren't you going to say anything? Do anything? Isn't that why you're here?”

“The question is why you're here, _Doctor.”_ He replied.

“I know why I'm here.”

“Do you? And what's that?”

“Information, obviously. You wouldn't keep me alive if you didn't need me. You want the location of Overwatch's new, alleged headquarters. They sent you in here, because that other _dumhuvud_ did not know what he's doing.”

“You think I do? Do _you_ know what you're doing?”

“Of course I do. I'm a Doctor.” She rebuked quickly, aggression sparking her tone. Reaper allowed a small, dark chuckle to roll out of him. She visibly paled beneath it.

“Perhaps if you are a doctor, you can help me with something. Hm?” He invited, one talon'd hand lifting as he slowly began to undo the fastenings on it. His words continued. “There is a rumor going around. A sickly sort of rumor that might... hurt your credibility, if anyone ever found any proof.” He had removed the gauntlet down and revealed the lower half of his forearm and exposed his hand. Behind the glass, even Widow stared with rapt attention.

His skin was so pale that he took on a corpse-like, death white color. The black claws he had had before, the ones she'd seen in his room, had been more or less replaced. They'd grown out and now encompased his entire fingertips. Skin and bone seemed to merge into flawless sharp spikes at the each of every finger, and they were dark as pitch, as if each one had been dipped in ink or poison, or left frostbitten for entirely too long. Along his skin, barely visible red veins could be spotted worming their way across his body. “Can you guess at the rumor?” he asked, letting his gauntlet drop to the side, the sound of it hitting the ground making her jump slightly. Mercy had heard a few rumors, and there were speculations about the wraith, but she found herself incapable of speaking. Smirking, he continued.

“They say you did this to me, Doctor Ziegler. Rumors say that I am your... failed experiment, as it were. Perhaps you've a way of fixing it...”

Her head shook, her eyes darkening with pain and mild sorrow. This expression alone spoke volumes to the man. She knew more. Of course she did. He would get to the bottom of it.

“You've no idea?” he asked, slowly removing the second gauntlet. It too was dropped, and when it hit the ground, she jerked, fighting her bonds. Behind the mirror window, Widow watched, transfixed. She had never seen his skin that pale before, nor the extent of his claws. Finally, the sniper understood that the state of his body correllated directly with how recenly he'd fed. Perhaps that was why he was still at Talon after all. An excuse to feed. “That's unfortunate.” Reaper was saying. His hands reached up then, tucking into his hood. With his profile to the window, Widow could see nothing of what he revealed, but when his mask did come away, Ziegler shrieked and cowered back in her seat, turning away.

“What's the matter, Doctor? Don't like what you see?”

But there was something more, Ziegler stared at him, and as she did, tears formed in her eyes and began to pour down either cheek as if suddenly unleashed from a small dam.

 _“Don't do this.”_ She plead weakly at him, but the man had finally gotten off his chair and began to stalk closer. The weight of his heavy boots on the sterile, slightly blood-splattered concrete floor was loud, causing her to shudder. Looming over her, Reaper suddenly leaned forward, pressing one hand to the back of her seat against which he arms were bound, and the other palm pressed against the bottom edge of the chair, directly against her thigh. Beneath the cloth of her armor suit, she could feel cold radiating off of his exposed flesh, as if stealing the heat out of her. His face was now directly in front of hers, tilted, his words like hisses, filing her breath and her nostrils with his acrid, faintly metal-scented miasma.

“ _Did you do this, Doctor? Answer me. Did your pathetic, weak, Overwatch friends lose track of something that was once theirs? Did they make me into this thing? Did they?”_ Monstrous words though they may have been, Mercy's head turne back, barely able to look into his face, that face still hidden from the excited Widow nearby. She'd never seen him shake someone down quite like this before, and it thrilled her. Finally, Mercy's eyes locked upon his and as she trembled, her lip quivered.

 _“Y-Yes.”_ She stammered out. Tears continued down over either cheek. Her voice had cracked again. Sighing, Reaper finally straightened up, black polution wafting off of him in thick droves. Turning away from the window to fetch his mask, he put it back on, much to Widow's dismay, as she hadn't gotten the peek she was hoping for.

“You're going to tell us where they are.” Reaper commanded finally as he slipped his gauntlets back on. “You're going to tell us what we want to know, or, you and I are going to get a lot more friendly than you'd like.” Hunger spoke for him. Consuming her would be all too inviting for him. Already, she'd given him enough information to go on. Overwatch was to blame after all, and he needed to know more, but this was a start. “I want to know who all is involved. Where your new HQ is, and where your friends are now. I'd also like to know why you've enlisted the aid of the vigilante known as seventy-six.”

Mercy seems so shaken up that its difficult for her to speak, but ultimately, she gives in. Unfortunately, the names she prattles off are all names he already knew. Winston, Tracer, Herself, 76, who, she says, no one knows his real name yet, Torbjorn, and Reinhardt. It seems to take all her will just to get these names out. Reaper suspects that she's not being entirely forthcoming, but then, it's her first night with him. She's still strong.

“I don't know where they are now.” She whispered as Reaper paced around her, much like a shark, his hungry eyes upon her.

“You can't expect me to believe that. Tell me.”

“I don't!” She gasped. “That place, that was... It was all suppose to be there... We didn't expect you to fin-” Her words were cut off as Reaper lost his nerve, suddenly wheeling on her, from behind, he laced his fingers over the back of her seat, letting his claws poke into the armor of her shoulders, tightening. He leaned close, his voice a whisper in her ear. Smoke drifted forward, oozing past the openings in his mask as he did.

 _“For a deceptive Doctor, you're especially bad at lying, Ziegler. Did you think that I wouldn't notice the signs? Did you think that I couldn't connect all the dots? Your lot ambushed me, Angela, and I_ _ **am**_ _going to find out why.”_ As he spoke, his claws trailed across her shoulders, as if marking the metaphorical dots as each claw pressed against her, daring to cut through her armor and into her flesh.

She realized in those moments that, for Reaper, whether he knew who he was or not, it had become personal. That was a bad sign, she thought, feeling a shudder run down her spine. Once more, tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

A sort of horrid sounding snarl of disappointment left Reaper and he tore himself away from her in a ghostly fury, his body disolving for a moment before he recomposed himself, swirling, amassing onto the seat in front of her once more.

“I grow weary of this game, Ziegler. I am exhausted. If you must know, getting you here was no easy task. The least now that you could do is to make it worth my time. Remember, if you will... That we do not care if they die. Or you. Delaying us will solve nothing. Sooner or later, death will consume you. As it consumes us _all._ Tell me then, why you felt the need to enlist seventy-six?”

Eyes blurred like unpolished stone, pools of sapphire levelled upon him. Did he really not know? He spoke to her as though he'd never met her in his life. Surely, he of all people would know why seventy-six was there.

Being perhaps honest for the first time that evening, she steeled her voice, lips forming a thin, angry line before she spoke. “We did not enlist him. He showed up on his own.” Then, her lips sealed, and a look came into her stare that let Reaper know that she wouldn't be offering up anything else tonight. They would have to try again tomorrow, after hunger and pain really began to gnaw away at her resolve. Staring at her for the longest moment, Reaper tried to piece out why her face seemed so familiar up close. Sure, he had seen her on holovids and media outlets across the globe, but that wasn't it. The look in her eyes was one he knew. Once more, he wraithed away, his form slowly losing its figure and seeping down over the sides of the seat and sweeping behind it. Drawing himself up to the door, he listened to the sounds of Widow opening it before he reformed and stepped out. The lights in Angela's prison were abruptly shut off, leaving her in the dark, bound, for who knew how long. Talon had seen everything, so there was no need for him to make a report that night. Retreating to his quarters, the shade slipped into the darkness of his room and let his thoughts consume him. The words she spoke. Overwatch had done this to him, she had confessed. Talon was right. The Doctor's abilities did have something to do with this form after all.

Stripping out of his clothing, the man soon took to his bed, but it was hardly a relaxation. The look she had offered him taunted him. Much of it did. The ambush, the whole set up. All of it began to reek of something unknown.

 

~

 

Another dream. He was younger now, his hands were normal. Sitting in the back yard of a two story house, Gabe could hear three different bands from where he sat, sipping on a bottle of cheap beer and watching as his parents danced along. _Cinco de Mayo._ Most of the houses on their street proudly flew their Mexican flags, and three of the parties on the block had hired Mariachi bands to come and play at them. While their party had been one of them, the hour was late, the party winding down, and the band had left an hour ago. The yellow lights were still strung up around the pateo, metal folding chairs set up and around the plastic lawn furniture. His parents danced along in an open space on terra-cotta flooring to a slow song that Gabe's grandfather played on a decorated guitar nearby. He smiled at them, then at the old man, who, nearly blind as he was, still thrummed expertly. Naturally, he didn't see Gabe's smile, which only made the young man smile more. Gabe finished off his beer and moved to dispose of the bottle, slipping past the elder and patting him on the shoulder as he passed, approaching his parents who still lightly swayed.

“I've gotta get going home, pops.” He said warmly to his father, who dipped the woman in his arms easily. Her smile could have made it daytime, as far as Gabe was concerned.

“Home! It's only eleven, boy. You're not nine anymore!” the man protested.

“I have class tomorrow.” Gabe insisted, shrugging.

“Bah. I guess. Kiss your mother goodnight, anyway.” He said, letting the woman go, and her arms laced around Gabe's shoulders at once. She chuckled at him, slyly saying nothing until his dad was out of earshot. Gabe had always gotten his sarcasm and wits from her, so every time they spoke, they ended up gossipping and laughing.

“Dance with me you little fool. Your father thinks he's so, _so_ smooth. I try not to tell him when he steps on my toes.” She teased, motioning her hand at the elder nearby. “Come on, Oscar, play one more for my hansdome boy, hm? Who knows when I will see him again. You're always so busy.” She said back to Gabe, her dark brown eyes fastening on his chestnut stare, tugging the empty bottle out of his hand and tossing it into the nearby grass. They could clean it up later. “You look so much like him now, Gabriel, except prettier. It's incredible to me.” She teased. “But I suppose looks aren't everything. You're going to school, after all. That's good... Though...”

“...Though what, Mom?” He asked, his hands coming to her waist in a proper dancing pose as she looped her arms about his neck.

“Law enforcement? Here? In Los Angeles? Why...? You could be so much more useful doing something else.”

“Someone has to stand up for the little guy, right?” He teased. They both knew that wasn't the reason. Gabriel had been a tough kid. Teased, bullied, but it made him sturdy all the same. Much of his life had revolved around physical sports, or feats of strength that would otherwise prove himself to those around him. Constantly, he strove to impress those he cared about, and even some of those he didn't. That praise gave him a sense of validation, or appreciation, and always made him feel better about who he was. Going to school, getting a degree and a well paying job in a noble profession, that would look good to everyone. Together, they smiled and laughed, and at the end of the night, she kissed his cheek and hugged him.

“Come and visit me more, hm? I know you're busy.” She said, letting him go.

“Alright, Ma.” He chuckled and moved over to the old man still strumming. Helping him to his feet, Gabe took the man into a hug, and felt his hand clasp his back.

“You're a good kid, boy. You keep that up.”

“Not a kid anymore, Grandad.” he laughed.

“You'll always be my boy, you know. Anyway, goodnight. I'm gonna go and stink up the bathroom.” Crude and charming, as usual. Snorting, Gabriel left for his apartment then, slipping onto his bike and taking the quickest way home, given that Los Angeles streets were hardly safe when it got dark out, and he didn't live in the highest class neighborhood.

Upon arriving, he noticed that his phone had a new voicemail on it, along with a small holovid that played along side. As he walked by, he pressed play.

 

  * **8:57 PM. Call recieved from: 802 – 517 – 2634 – Sanchez, Nia.**




_“Hey babe, I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight... I... I know you really wanted me to be there, but the hospital called me just a few minutes before I was going to step out...”_

 

She pauses, and Gabriel can hear her struggle to form words for what her mind is thinking.

_“Things are getting really hectic... for both of us. I know. I've been trying to make time for you, babe, I really have. It's just... You've been distant lately- ah. Look. I don't want to do this in a message. Call me, okay? I love you.” **Click.**_

 

He sighed and erased the message. It was the third time this month that she couldnt make it to something, anything. She wasn't intentionally blowing him off, but they both saw the signs. Their careers were taking them in different directions. At this point, he hadn't seen her in three, almost four weeks.

“The prognosis isn't good, Doc...” He whispered mildly to himself.

 

~

 

The next few days were rough for Doctor Ziegler. Seeing as how the other interrogators seemed to have no effect on her, they had opted to simply keep using Reaper. It wasn't preferred, but the more time he spent with her, the more likely it seemed that she might crack. Reaper's patience began to wear thin as she refused to give up the coordinates of their new headquarters.

 

He sat across from her once more, staring at her behind the relative privacy of his mask. She could not make out his emotions from where she sat. No one could. She was slightly bloodier and slightly more bruised than before, but he had chosen to leave her intact, for now. Widow once again observed, albeit somewhat boredly, from the side room with the one way window.

“There is another way that we can do this.” Reaper said suddenly, his dual-toned voice like a covetted secret, wispered across the distance to her. Yet, it was just loud enough to allow its inhuman timbre to echo off of the four pale, sterile walls. Mercy said nothing. In the few days that she had been with them, more or Reaper's memories had begun to fall back into place, becoming clearer. Yet, even now, it was a patchwork of an unknown whole. He knew pieces of the picture. He knew who he was before he went into the military, and though he did not remember how, exactly, he remembered that he was one of only a few chosen to take part in a classified Soldier Enhancement Program, an experimental operation meant to test volatile, possibly deadly serums upon the human body in hopes for a better outcome. There were a few who had gone in with him, but he could not remember their names or faces. In fact he could barely even remember that there was a facility. But what did that have to do with Overwatch? And, more importantly, what did Overwatch have to do with him?

Mercy knew. He knew she did. But, for some reason, she kept it from him.

Sombra knew too, he was sure, but like hell if he was going to go to that little brat for information. She always seemed to want something in return.

Widow? Well... She seemed just as clueless as he was, and less caring all around. Widow was comfortable in her situation, in her life, her job and purpose.

“You've been here for a few days now. Almost a week. It wont be long before you start to dehydrate and die of malnutrition. I can't imagine that the food they give you,” small, barely edible blocks the size of ones palm, once a day, dry and brown and crumbly, with no flavor, “are quite up to par.”

“You're suggesting you'll feed me if I talk?” She asked suddenly, her tone sharp, mocking. Reaper's head canted at her, his brows lofting beneath his mask. One of his hands gestured.

“What do you take me for?” he asked, allowing a wicked pause to settle between them, he leaned forward on his elbows. “Have I ever given you the impression that I was anything other than a monster, Doctor?” Once more, her lips stilled and she watched him pensively. He continued, looking down, seeming to piece out his plan in front of her with the sole intention of intimidating her. “The way I see it, your... band of brothers, as it is, will likely be looking for you, because of course they are. They are much less willing to give your life as you are, I'd imagine. What I'm proposing can be a little bloody, but I think it will have solid results.” Each rasp caused a fresh plume of black smoke to drift up from his person, clouding around him slightly before it dissipated. Mercy's face drained of whatever color it had left. “Piece by piece, I think they'll get the message. They'll give us the information we want. I could send them a finger. Maybe toes, an ear, or an eye... Mmhhm..” He laughed, a frozen, venomous laugh, “I'm sure they couldn't mistake those pretty blues for anyone elses'.” He leaned forward even more. “But they will tell us what you won't. I can promise you that.”

Her eyes glossed over, her form shivering as she watched him. The wraith had moved to stand and moved closer, her body began to tremble. Behind the window, Widowmaker stared, enraptured like it was the newest episode of her favorite show.

Reaper's form began to lose its shape in his left arm, working its way slowly up his arm until it stopped at his shoulder. His right hand moved, suddenly grasping Mercy by the top of her head, his talons curling into her white hair and giving a harsh, cringe inducing yank. She cried out, and when she did, his left arm, a thing of shadow and mist, lurched forward, spilling into the gap made by her teeth, forcing her jaw open more widely, and pressing deeply down into her throat. Blue eyes widened in sudden terror and she began to shriek, but it was muffled by the cloud. Suffocation was a brutal form of death, and though he could have simply choked her physically, this seemed to leave a more lasting impression. She could _taste_ him on her tongue, metal and blood, something like rot, putrid and wicked. Tears now began to stream openly down her cheeks as she struggled, but he held her firm. Widow had left her seat at this point and now stood, open palmed leaning against the table, staring through the mirror. Most of Talon watched with eager attention.

Reaper grew more vindictive as the moments ticked by. Hunger gnawned at him like a rabid dog, and he wanted nothing more than to take her life to feed himself. His eyes bored into her from behind his mask, talons tightening so much against her hair that a few strands broke free of her scalp. The metal of those claws tore small holes into her flesh. Still, she choked, and a sort of primal growl began to rise in his throat as he continued.

 _“We need her alive, Reaper.”_ Talon was interjecting, and Widow was already set to go to the door. He lingered, watching Mercy's eyes roll back, her skin begin to darken. _“REAPER.”_ Talon screamed at him through his comm device.

Finally, he yanked back, his arm becoming solid the moment that he had, claws of his right releasing her hair and causing small bits of white hair to drift off of it, down to the floor. Ziegler was suddenly gasping, sobbing forward as she regained the ability to breathe. Every inch of her body ached with the denial. As she looked up at the maddened man, she knew beyond any doubt that if she did not give him what he wanted, he would make good on his plans to start removing body parts. Internally, part of her broke. Weeping openly, she looked up at him. He seemed suspended, staring at her, his inhuman growl still rattling in his chest.

 

 _“Gabriel Reyes, you were never like this.”_ She suddenly choked out, her heart breaking inside. Perhaps he was truly gone after all, now that she had seen proof that it was, in fact, him, no longer a suspicion.

Those words caused his eyes to suddenly widen. She knew him. She knew his name, and her tone suggested that she had known him a lot better than this. What then, had she been to him? What were her tears now that he saw, sorrow... Pity? Wheeling, he reached around with the left arm now solid, clawlike talons latching onto her chin and tilting her head up to him.

“ _Who were you to me?”_ he demanded suddenly, violently. Mercy seemed taken aback by the question. He didn't remember?

 

“ _ **ENOUGH.**_ ” Talon barked so loudly into Reaper's ear that he was forced to release Ziegler and back away from her. Leaving her to slouch against her bindings, he backed away until he stood at the door. “ _We're done for today. Good work, Reaper. She should be ready to talk tomorrow.”_ Talon continued. He said nothing, eyes remaining fastened upon her until he heard Widow unlocking the door from the other side. Letting himself out, he said nothing to anyone he passed, but that did not stop Widow from following him.

“What was that?” She asked, but he ignored her. Persisting, she followed him all the way back to the rooms they were being kept in. Talon never settled in one place forever, it was how they had avoided detection so long, but these set of rooms in particular were dry, dull to look at, and poorly lit. She reached out for him abruptly as they passed through a door. “What the hell was-”

But, he cut her off, wheeling and knocking her hand aside. “ **Don't.** Touch me.” He hissed, staring her down. Her brows knitted at him.

“You let her get in your head!” She half yelled. Ghosting away from her, he began to lose his shape. “Don't you run from me, Reyes!” She snapped. It was the first time he had ever heard Widow use his real name. His hands tightened into fists and he stopped.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled again.

“An answer.” She said finally, walking to catch up to him.

“Now you care about answers?” he was facing her now, head tilted.

“I care when it impacts our job. You know that girl, don't you? Don't lie to me. I saw it.”

“I'm not-”

“Don't you deny it.” She barked.

“ _I'm. Not... doing this here.”_ If she wanted to hash this out, it was going to be somewhere private. He turned away, making for his room again, but she was right on his heels. The man slipped under the door as a ghost, tempted not to unlock it, but suddenly Widow started rapping on it with her knuckles. Growling, he relinquished the lock's mechanisms and stepped away.

“You almost killed her, didn't you? I saw it. You're starving, Reaper. You need to do something, you need to tell Talon.”

“Talon? And what is Talon going to do, Widow? Hm? Send me out so I can murder another mass of people?”

“Possibly. It did not seem to bother you last time.”

“And yet, I'd not have had to do it if it wasn't for you.”

“Tell me about Ziegler. What do you know of her?”

“Nothing.” he answered honestly.

“She knows your name. Saw your face, didn't she? She knows who you are.”

“Doesn't it bother you, Widow?” He asked, and this time, she was the one who grew heated. “That Talon expects us to do so much, then never tells us why we're doing it?”

“You know why we're doing this. Overwatch is corrupt. They have always been. They want their... politicians to rule the world. They would see people like you and I eradicated. That is all they care about. Power. Everything else is fake.”

“Is it?” He asked, and suddenly, she went quiet, her eyes widening at him. He may as well have just spoken blasphemy. A long, dark silence settled between them. He turned away, waving his hand dismissively. “Go away.”

Continuing to stare at him, Widow adjusted her feet. His back was to her, but finally she spoke anyway. “I will send someone to you, Reaper. You will tell Talon that he became insubordinate. You will know what to do.” She paused, turning her head back to them. “But do not let that little bitch get into your head again. She is a liar. They are all liars, Reaper. I will not allow her to compromise this mission. If _you_ do not kill her, _I_ will.” The clack of heels then could be heard as she turned and stalked out of the room, the door shutting with a loud click behind her. She was going to send him a meal? It wouldn't do much, but it would be enough to help. Widow was right. Overwatch had done this, and they would continue to do it until they had their way.

 

Minutes later, his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Reaper moved towards it, his hand landing on the doorknob.

“S-sir?” A male voice from just beyond, one Reaper recognized. Reluctantly he opened the door, and there stood the interrogator that had been... processing Ziegler, damaging her so. A small spark of rage fled through him, though he could hardly comprehend why. Perhaps, he deduced within a few seconds, it was because the man was so completely incompetent that Widow had deemed him... expendable. Beneath his mask he smirked. “Sir, you sent for me, Sir?”

“I did.” He lied, head tilting, he let the man in, stepping aside. The man was a bit smaller than he, with black hair cut short, a strong tan that masked his native heritage slightly. “Have a drink.” Reaper said, motioning to a small collection of bottles on a nearby endtable. The man seemed surprised, but then smiled.

“I uh... Thank you, Sir. I guess most of us just sort of assumed you didn't... uh. Well..”

“Drink?” he supplied the following word, snorting. “Of course I do. I'm still human.”

 _Was he?_ The other man didn't seem so sure. He was in the process of pouring himself something. Alcohol seemed like an especially bad idea just now, but Talon's selection always seemed top shelf. Really, all the food and drink provided to them was usually pretty good, so he had no doubt that whatever Reaper preferred was probably especially hiugh caliber. Perhaps a suitable recompence for their sub-par living conditions.

He didn't get through but a few gulps of the substance before Reaper had turned on him.

 

No one heard the man's screams for aid with a clawed hand tightened around his throat. His face had turned blue and still within moments. Reaper savored the loss of him in his grasp, feeding slowly, trying to make the healing endure longer. He could have gone for three more, but dared not ask. Somehow, killing this useless wretch had been satisfying.

 

~

 

That night, more of Reaper's memories returned. This time, they were new. He was standing on a large, flat black tarmac with a military helecopter just behind him, engines winding down. Twenty other men and women stood around him. The woman to his right, a woman with sharp, asian features and deep brown eyes, assertive, dressed in camo-fatigues, a few small ear piercings, left empty. Her feet together, her hand raised two fingers to her forehead, chin up.

Katie Hall.

To his left, a man in a much similar pose. Adonis features, flawless jawline, a straight nose, bright blonde hair and blue eyes, slightly less built than him.

Jack Morrison.

Suddenly, Reaper could remember the face that went with the name. Jack. His mind fixated on the features, picking it out of fragments of other memories he had with the man. As of yet, the other memories were shattered and made no sense, but there were many of them. So much time must have been spent with Morrison, it was hard to think that they couldn't have been friends. Suddenly, the rage that he felt when he recalled the name made so much more sense. Jack had something to do with how Reaper ended up this way. They had been at least somewhat close. Friends.

It dawned on him then.

His best friend had betrayed him.

 

_This life is filled with hurt,  
When happiness doesn't work._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Lysics are from the Song "Pain" By Three Day's Grace.  
> More chapters to come!
> 
> Edits may be made for small things like dialogue format, grammatical errors, spelling, or awkward wording.


	3. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where one door opens, a pit opens in the floor before it, waiting to ensnare a victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> May contain angst and brief graphic gore.

Revelations were always a two edged sword. It could always be good or bad, no matter what the reveal happened to be. The rogue was constantly under the impression that when it seemed a door had opened conveniently, secretly, a pit opened in the floor somewhere before it, waiting to ensnare a victim. Few things ever occurred to make him optimistic, and as of yet, the memories that filtered back into his mind in slow intervals supported his theory that exactly nothing good had ever happened to him, or ever would. If anything, he'd learned to trust people even less, and as such, had distanced himself from Widow again. Talon, on the other hand... Well, something told him he would be stupid to trust them entirely. These thoughts shuffled through his mind on repeat as he sipped from a bottle of brandy. It was already half gone, but he didn't feel a thing. Never did. A downside of this particular diet, he lamented, not being able to get completely shitfaced when it suited him to do so. He'd have given an arm and leg for such a thing right about now.

Nightmares about Jack and about before lingered in his mind, haunting him. Once more, the images from his past slipped into the forefront of his mind.

 

~

 

Grandpa Oscar laid on a hospital bed in their living room, breathing tubes hooked up to him along with all the accompanying apparatus of life support. He had been unconscious like this now for the better part of a month, and such aid was anything but cheap. It was his lungs, they said. Sure, the cancer was killing him, but it was the failing ability of his lungs that would claim him first.

“Braindead.” The doctors had said politely. “We haven't seen any activity for the last three days. Beyond this point... There's nothing we can do. He is physically incapable of keeping himself alive.”

Gabe could see tears streaming down his mother's face, smearing her makeup. Oscar was Gabe's grandpa on his father's side, but that had hardly mattered. He had always been close to them, and looked after Gabe and his siblings like children. The siblings were there too. A younger sister, just a few years younger than Gabe himself, named Rosa. She had just turned seventeen. Her long black hair was kept in a braid, her makeup done up much in the same way as their mother's: thick on the eyeliner, but subtle lip color and just a touch of shadow. It was smearing, too, giving away the lighter brown of her eyes. Gabe was twenty one, just old enough to drink, and a few years into his college, already grooming a goatee that he rather liked. It made him look older, he said, and the ladies liked it. Well, most of them. Henrique, who they all naturally called Henry, was taller than Gabe with a sharper face, a more angled nose and pitch black hair, but it was almost shaved now, most of his upper arms covered in tattoos. Henry's eyes were always so dark that they were almost black, as was the expression he often wore. He had a bad attitude, but for someone at twenty six years old, no definable college credit or career, it seemed understandable. Despite what some might consider a misgiving, Gabe had always looked up to him. Additionally, Henry had always looked after his siblings like a father.

_Beep beep._

Particularly since, at the time of this memory, their father was no where to be seen. Gabe had no idea where the man could have been that was more important in this moment. Later, his mother would tell him that the grief of Oscar's passing was too real, too heartbreaking for him, and he did not want his children to see him cry. Gabe supposed he could respect that.

_Beep. Beep._

When they finally turned off the machines, the entire house was crowded with family and friends, extended and otherwise. A catholic priest had come to pray and read the last of the man's rights to him. People wept, and all the while, Gabe sat nearby on a couch, quietly trying to disappear, but he could not look away.

_Beep. . . Beep._

The sound of his mother's sobs and the look on Rosa's face would forever etch themselves into his memory, as would the hard, angry expression riddled across Henry's features. Life was such a fragile thing, he had thought then. But then, people died so often. Every day. Death was simply a fact of life. This would be the first encounter Gabriel had with it.

_Beeeeeeee. . ._

 

Oscar had left all of them a little something in his will, but it wasn't the fair chunk of money Gabe cherished most of what he had inherited. That old guitar. Gabriel had taken it into his hands from the first moment and finally let his eyes roam over it. So well taken care of by Oscar that it may as well have been part of the family. The calavera-painted black and white surface was decorated with a few small beads, the wood slightly worn down where an arm had rested. Turning it over, Gabriel discovered a small passage that had been written down at the bottom of the guitar with a thick black permanent marker. _Hacer buenos recuerdos,_ it read, which translated to, “Make good memories.”

And he had. That guitar became a hobby to Gabe, pulling him through his grief. Dedicating himself to it, he had learned all that it took, and soon, he was the one at the family gatherings, strumming along where Oscar had left off.

 

~

 

Reaper shook himself out of the memory, eyes turning down. That was a long, long time ago, and the guitar was long since lost, god knew where. He was a different man now, and though Gabe couldn't remember anything, he knew enough about himself now to know that he either didn't have time or didn't have patience to thrum along a tune anymore.

The few days after nearly choking Ziegler to death had proved fruitful. Learning that Overwatch had not one, but three new recruits, was shocking, but not entirely unexpected. In truth, Talon had anticipated that Winston, who seemed to be in charge, would be looking for new, fresh blood to operate beneath him. All three had potential, but potential was bad for Talon. A medical DJ, a short, brilliant minded weather aficionado , and... a Korean, video-gaming celebrity spotlight? What exactly was Winston thinking? Could these three young punks really go toe to toe with Talon? Reaper scoffed at the very notion of it. Additionally, they had learned that Overwatch's new headquarters were located somewhere cold. While that could have been a lot of places, it also ruled out most of the suspected areas, including the abandoned warehouse they had been scouting before.

She still hadn't given up a reason as to why they had ambushed him in the first place.

 

This question, it seemed, would be harder to answer, which was disappointing given that it was currently the one question that Reaper wanted answered the most. He wanted more time with Ziegler than they had allowed him, in fact, after he had nearly killed her, they'd cut his time with her basically in half, and it was all strictly monitored now, as they refused to let him sit in the room with her alone anymore. They didn't want to risk her dying, they said, not while she was still a hostage. So they said, anyway. Needless to say, she spoke less with them there.

 

At the end of a week and a half, however, Overwatch found them.

A heavy blast broke open one whole side of the facility so strongly as to threaten bringing down the other half of it, but they had to have known that the Doctor was being kept underground, or else they'd surely have not tried something so risky. While that tidbit of information was filed away, Reaper knew he had no time to think. Thrown from his bed with the impact, he wraithed quickly into armor and clothing, then raced down the hallway towards the chamber. Widow was already in motion, nearly tripping him as she dropped into position at the rim of a balcony, overlooking the now-gaping hole of an entryway. After a few seconds, the smoke cleared.

Winston erupted through the space like a beast set ablaze, throwing aside foot-soldiers like small stones, ripping apart anything that got in his way. His roar could be heard just about everywhere. So too could the sudden, masculine roar that joined the fray. Reinhardt had broken in just behind Winston, and while the gorilla went ape on the chamber, Reinhardt faced off against six or seven men, his giant shield lighting up the entire area. instinctually, Reaper jumped into the fray. The blast from his guns now ricocheted off of walls, broke through windows, shattered machines as he took aim at Winston, who had now set his sites on Widow. Grappling herself away from him, it was all she could do to avoid getting caught, much less return fire. Reinhardt's shield would make Reaper's attempts useless until it was deactivated, so he allowed the grunts to deal with it, for now.

Winston howled with rage as one shot from one of the wraith's guns speckled his back left leg with red and searing white pain.

 _“Widow! Reaper! We have intruders!”_ The Talon comm operators were never especially brilliant people, but this was dumb even for them, Reaper thought incredulously.

“ _No shit!”_ He heard Widow yell as she once again, swung past Winston around a large support pillar, throwing him off course briefly.

 _“No! Downstairs, The Doctor, they are getting her out! Get down there NOW!”_ They shouted into the comm. Widow's eyes searched out Reaper before they found him. They nodded at each other at once, then progressed at once towards Ziegler's cage, as it were. How had they even gotten in, he wondered, but figuring that out did not matter now. Time was of the essence, and they both realized in their flight downstairs that Reinhardt's and Winston had been nothing more than a distraction.

 

 _“Not another move.”_ Growled an irritable, grizzly voice, catching them in the hallway. The hunter had found his prey. Reaper and Widow wheeled, finding Seventy-Six with his gun raised, visor on, pulse munitions ready to go. Once again, the rogue found himself haunted by familiarity. The voice, however older and more cynical, was too familiar to mistake. So this was where the puzzle lead. Seventy-Six, the vigilante hero, the old codger out to do them in. Jack. Morrison. Locked in such a small hallway as they were, they both knew that even one or two rounds of those rockets could end them with relative ease. Hell, anyone who watched the news knew what madness this anti-hero was capable of. The visor seemed to make it impossible to miss, and most didn't like those odds.

 _Bet he's never aimed at smoke before, though,_ Reaper thought, suddenly becoming exactly that. He twisted forwards through the air towards the soldier, and a round of explosives lit off, exploding the hallway where Reaper had just been. Widow narrowly avoided a collapsing segment of ceiling, but she wasn't so lucky when the next set of bullets rained sideways through the corridor. Reaper heard her scream and saw her fall, but his hands latched onto the pulse rifle too late, jerking it up towards the ceiling as he twisted behind Seventy-Six, claws clasping at anything he could get a hold of. But, the warrior was strong and elbowed him roughly, growling out an unrestrained rage as he wheeled, throwing his back, and thus, Reaper, into the wall. The rifle dropped, reducing them to a grapple. But, fighting with a ghost wasn't exactly easy, Reaper was dominating the fight, causing a sort of hideous laughter to roll out of him. At least, he was until he began to run out of steam. Seventy-Six seemed to be able to fight indefinitely, like he never got tired. Reaper couldn't do that, and with a venomous growl of defeat, he used some of his fading strength to go for Widow, who lay unconscious and bleeding on the floor twenty feet away, using one foot to kick away from Soldier as hard as he could manage. Cupping his forearm under her, he aimed one arm up, shotgun firing multiple times at the ceiling between them, collapsing it and allowing the two a quick getaway. With any luck, the agents would trap Seventy-Six in the hallway on the other wise.

“Widow's hit- badly. We need an evac.” He growled sharply into his comm device.

“ _Leave her! The target is getting away, Reaper! Stop Ziegler at all costs!”_

 

Abandon... widow? But she was their most loyal subject.

 

_Anger and agony_

_are better than misery._

 

No time to argue, he had an order. Still, he couldn't bring himself to simply abandon her. He instead secured her upright against a sturdy location of the wall, hastily tying off her flesh wound with a long strip, of cloth debris. Then, he charged through the building, taking an alternate route to escape, giving his ghosting ability a chance to recharge.

“Sombra!” Reaper roared into his comm device, “Cut them off! Do not let them leave with her! See if you can lock down the facility!”

“Lock it down, eh? With a giant hole blown right in the side of it? Sure! I'll get right on it, Boss.” Her insolence never failed to completely ignite him with rage. A minute later, he heard her yelling back into her comm. “God damnit! I can't get out, someone's disabled the ship- her underbelly's all gutted, and my teleporter's down. Unless you've got some kind of brilliant idea to get onto their ship, Reaper, I'm out of options!”

 _Christ. She wanted him to teleport, again?_ He knew what she was saying, but it was suicide. He couldn't possibly take them all on.

“ _I'll try.”_ He hissed, only because he knew Talon was listening. Was he going to? No. Of course not. Talon hadn't given him enough to warrant him sacrificing himself, especially not after seeing how poorly they'd just treated Widow in the ordeal.

He made it out of the facility just in time to see their ship fading from view.

A debriefing of the situation revealed all that had happened.

Talon HQ would need to be moved, again. Widow had lived, but her leg was out of commission, for now. They estimated that it would take perhaps a week or so before she was back to walking, and a week after that before she was back to her usual things. Sombra spent almost all of her time repairing their ship's scattered software with a few capable hands, and otherwise refused to see anyone. Seventy-Six, who Reaper now secretly knew to be Jack Morrison, had escaped. He hadn't bothered to tell Talon that. Why would he? They hadn't asked, and to them, he doubted Jack would mean much... But... Sombra. Sombra would know.

Within a few days, they'd all been relocated to another part of the world, hiding out as Talon set up new facilities for them to call home. Reaper cornered the hacker on their way down to the new quarters.

This building was red and brown, simple, easy to miss in the heavily populated Italy. It looked a lot like an old hotel, but beneath the surface it was more in depth, connecting to a proper bunker. An old bomb shelter, they'd said, or someone's obsessive project to avoid the zombie apocalypse entirely. It had been outfitted with all new tech, of course, from lighting to holo-tele's, to all the basic amenities, including the minibars in every room, each with the drinks they all admitted to have grown fond of. Alcohol was a nice respite from most things for most people, and even Reaper admitted that it had appeal to it, even if he couldn't get drunk.

“We need to talk.” he growled as they walked, discovering that their rooms were right next to each other. Naturally, these rooms were under ground too, so the flat, pale walls were vaguely reminiscent of a jail cell, if larger with nicer beds and furniture.

“Do we? I don't think we do.” She said, about to shut the door in his face before he suddenly shoved his arm into the door jamb and forced it open. He walked in, despite her annoyed look and tone. Eyes rolled and her hand gestured, “At least close the _door, Gabe._ I don't like visitors. What do you want, and what does it have to do with me?”

“I want answers.” he hissed.

“Yeah, I get that. Spit it out, Pendejo.”

“You've seen videos of the vigilante Sevety-Six.”

“Who hasn't?”

“And his background? You know who he is, don't you?”

Sombra was in the process of removing her gloves when she turned to look at him, her head tilting, she folded her arms across her chest then, leaning back against the dresser. “That's quite the assumption, isn't it? Why does it matter to you if I know who he is?”

“If you know who he is, you haven't told Talon. Or if you have, Talon isn't telling me. I want to know why.”

“The question is _why_ does it matter who he is, Reaper? Hmm? He's just part of their little... team now, isn't it? Do you care who he is or why he's helping them?”

Reaper hesitated, debating how much he wanted to tell her. Sombra always kept things to herself for her own gain, and that much was blatantly obvious. She didn't seem to make much effort to hide it. Staring at him, she smirked faintly, her brows lofted.

“Do _you_ know who he is, Reaper? Do you think you know?” She asked.

“He didn't immediately kill us. He tried to stop us. He could have just open fired and he would have had us both. When I was fighting him, he dropped his gun in favor of punching me. I want to know why.”

“But that isn't what you asked me. You wanted to know who he is, which, to me, suggests that you think who he is must have something to do with why he didn't kill you.” She pointed out. As usual, the brilliant brat wasn't wrong.

“Are you going to tell me who he is, or aren't you? I haven't got time for your stupid games, Sombra.” his voice was a dry hiss, rasping with effort. Hearing that, Sombra turned away and began pouring him a drink from what was her minibar. Eventually, she held out a small tumbler to him with a few shots of scotch.

“Have a drink, hm? You sound like you're about to drift away in a faint breeze. You haven't fed recently have you? I've seen it, you know. I saw the videos of your interrogation. I saw what happened in Madrid. All those people... But you were perfect right after that, weren't you?”

Reaper glared, but ultimately snatched the drink from her. He nudged his mask up, revealing goatee and a section of his scarred face before backing the harsh drink without so much as a wince. It soothed him somehow, at least a little, and he relaxed.

“So, then?” She asked, watching as he pulled down his mask again, her head tilted again, like she had more questions, but didn't ask them.

“No.” He rattled finally. “No, I haven't fed. No, I don't know who he is. Not exactly.”

“Who do you think he is?” She asked. His eyes met hers, though she only stared back into the black pits of his mask. Pushing the empty glass back into her outstretched hand, he shrugged.

“An old memory. Someone dead.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn't it?”

“It's impossible.”

“But here you are.” She pressed.

“He isn't like me.”

“Isn't he?”

“NO!” Reaper snapped with a vicious growl, Sombra visibly flinched. He continued. “No. He isn't. He's nothing like me. He doesn't have to feed, he doesn't have to kill just to survive, he doesn't become _nothing_ whenever it suits him, he isn't this constantly-changing, evolving cluster of whatever-the-fuck in a robe.” His snarl was almost tangible with the weight of envy upon it. Reaper had reached full circle, the realization that not only was Jack Morrison his once best friend turned betrayer, turned dead-man vigilante, martyr of the world, but he also, apparently, seemed to be completely unaffected by whatever death was suppose to have claimed him.

Sombra seemed to sense this, her hands moving to set the cup back on the bar before she rested her palms against the edge.

“I think you know the answer.” She replied smoothly. “It seems like you've pieced it all together. But... I think you should ask Talon.”

“Why? Why would Talon give me that information now, Sombra? They left Widow to die in that hallway. Why would they show me any preferential treatment and tell me what I wanted to know?”

“Careful, Gabe, you're beginning to sound ungrateful for all they _have_ given you... Or perhaps you begin to doubt that now, too?”

“What exactly are they giving you?” He said, this time, his head tilted, giving emphasis to his words as he spoke. “You don't need money, you have all the information you could need for... for whatever it is that you're doing, don't you? What does Talon have that you don't? What do you get out of all this?”

Sombra laughed, her voice almost seemed scolding. “Oh, come now, Reaper. You assume that I am always here for some... thing. That's harsh. I am not such a material person. Perhaps I simply enjoy the travel, and the challenge of a difficult job, hmm? Track and take down a massive, world-wide organization as renowned as they are? What's not to love about that? Now, that's a brag a girl would love to have, isn't it?” She smirked at him, her brows lofting. “Are you staying for another drink? Because if you're not... get out.” She said pointedly.

 _Fine,_ he thought darkly, turning and wheeling away. Talking to Sombra was always a riddle, always some kind of game, and he hated it, mostly because it left him with more questions than it ever answered.

 

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Most kept to their rooms, though Widow made it especially clear that she wasn't happy about being bedridden. Reaper did not speak to her, did not bother to mention how her own company to whom she was so loyal had ordered him to leave her to die.

Despite Sombra's goading attitude, he did go to Talon to ask what they knew about Seventy-Six. As expected, they told him nothing, insisting that they knew as much as he did, and that, so long as he was working for Overwatch, it didn't matter who he was. He was a target, and that was the only important detail. In light of Ziegler's escape and Widow's wounded state, Talon addressed them, insisting that, for the time being they were to lay low, to be put on weaker tasks while the organization worked to establish itself again. Though moving HQ was a normal thing, it rarely happened with such large consequences and an equally large media coverage. Naturally, they did whatever they could to keep things as muffled as possible. Ultimately, it had been reported as an Overwatch Success on busting a terrorist hub. Not a wrong assessment, but not one Talon wanted to hear.

It got worse.

In light of Ziegler's rescue, humans and now omnics alike began to rally in favor of the new heroes. Overwatch gained momentum and support. Within a month of the attack, the Petras Act was repealed. For however long that would last, however, no one knew. Probably until one of their new recruit babies got hurt or died, or something, Reaper would guess. Widow, he and occasionally Sombra would watch on, sickened, from their 'apartments' underground. Millions had rallied to support Overwatch now, and there was no stopping it.

“Those fools.” Widow said as she sat upright, propped up on the edge of her bed holding the remote to the holo-tele, Reaper leaning next to her, his arms crossed. “They do not know what they do. Talon is a massive organization. They cannot possibly expect this to last. One mistake, and these animals will chew them up and spit them out. Again.”

She wasn't wrong. In that month, snippits of Reaper's memories had returned, bringing back small flashes of the Omnic Crisis, and his days in the military, and Overwatch. Though, how he'd ended up in the military or how he was involved in the crisis, in Overwatch, still remained very elusive to him. Moreover, at what point had Jack decided to betray him? And why?

He would find out why, he swore, if he didn't die of boredom first.

Finally, they gave him a job, and he alone.

Sent to Giza to oversee their operations there, Reaper encountered Jack again. This time, he couldn't help himself.

 _“Right here, Jack.”_ he had snarled before unloading a blast into Jack's lower spine. To his astonishment, the Soldier had just kept on kicking, especially so when the new sniper on the scene revealed herself, and tore away his mask.

Reaper had been starving for some months, barely living off of one soul at a time when she finally saw him. And he... He saw her.

But when she laid her eyes upon his pale, scarred face, patchy hair, brilliant red eyes, sharpened teeth and monstrous, wide smile, he had seen more in her.

 

~

 

Ana Amari. She'd always had a beautiful look to her face, a sharp wit, but a mother's wisdom, even when Fareeha was but a toddler. Everyone looked up to Ana, indeed, everyone. Even Gabriel's newest recruit, a young cowboy punk from the middle of no where, seemed transfixed by her presence. McCree, now that Reaper had seen enough memories of him, he could pick him out of the lot. He'd all but watched the boy grow up, and they'd become close. Friends. Brothers, nearly. Yet, every time his memories came around to Jack, they fuzzied and faded, grew almost physically painful, forcing him to think of other things.

Ana and McCree? Not so much. He knew they had something to do with Overwatch, and that they'd been friends, and yet, these new memories of the SEP did not include either of them. What was the SEP, exactly? That question still slightly eluded Reaper, but the more he pieced it out and did his own research, the more he was able to put together.

The Soldier Enhancement Program, a now long-dead attempt to create super-powered fighters, largely centered in the United States, but they were made in order to combat the oncoming Omnic Crisis. From his research, he learned that it was a small organization, no more than a few hundred men and women were ever selected from across the nation. This seemed to line up perfectly with the memory he had of them all lined up on the tarmac. That must have been in SEP, he thought. That must have been where he met Jack, or perhaps very close to it.

He could remember the needles, could remember getting sick repeatedly there after. Training simulations so rough that some men dropped out overnight, or breaking bones and having to spend a few days out of it just to heal. He could remember the shitty airline style food and the constant stench of pre-filtered air and stale water. The taste of blood and salt seemed to accompany these memories on every occasion. Vaguely, there was the sound of laughter, of a guitar and some kind of old, classic mexican soap playing in the background. The kind of shows his mother used to watch all the time. Perhaps the memories were simply merging together. Stretch marks never quite looked good on anyone, but hell if he hadn't seen a lot of them grow in on himself and the other Soldiers with him. Luckily, whatever super-serum had been pumped into them had healed all of that, and everything else, within a matter of days. That is, if the injections didn't kill you after three weeks of treatment.

Some men started with the shakes, or incontinence, or night terrors. Others went straight into seizures, or developed some kind of internal bleeding. Though Gabe couldn't remember an exact number, he knew that not very many people made it out of SEP. Even if the drugs didn't kill you, the omnic attacks might have, and did, on many occasions.

 

~

 

That particular thought jolted Reaper out of the memory immediately, tugging at the edge of something else, something more painful. Refusing to indulge, he finished his report on the Giza assault and replaced his mask over his face, washed clean of the dirt and grit where Ana had dropped it into the earth after her shriek of horror.

Talon wasn't going to answer these questions for him. He still knew almost as little about himself as he did before, and after seeing how they had treated Widow, he knew that any chance of finding what he wanted was next to impossible. Sombra wasn't going to make enemies of them, so trying to go to her for more information was a dead end.

But there were people who did know.

People who would talk to him.

Mercy.

 

But she had escaped. Months ago, and under Talon's watchful eye, he'd gotten nothing from her... Well, no, not nothing, but not what he wanted to know, anyway. Memories came back now and then without aid, but he had discovered that it was only when he was _around_ them that they returned more quickly. Whenever he was out in the field, fighting them, exposed to them, his memories seemed to return more avidly.

He needed to get out. Talon had blamed her escape on he and Widow, and these smaller jobs were doing nothing for him, especially not with the company leering over his shoulder and keeping them more or less... grounded at HQ multiple days a week. Instead of the week or two away that they'd sometimes spend, Talon seemed reluctant to let them away for more than two nights a week anymore. Even Reaper was starting to feel sickened by the cabin fever gnawing at his mind. Mostly because it gave him entirely too much time to think, and thinking often meant dwelling on all the things he didn't know, the little details that evaded the piercing glare of his scrutiny.

 

That night, he left the Talon HQ. Starving and anxious, he made his way out without any trace of evidence, leaving everything behind just as it was. The man's room was always dark, so even if they monitored it, they likely wouldn't have noticed just one more shadow slipping away. Especially not when denied any shed of sunlight, underground as they were. Did he even know where to begin looking? Recalling his interrogation of Doctor Ziegler, he was able to make a few guesses at where their new HQ wasn't. No where near the equator, not in the southern States. Possibly Canada, or Russia? Cold, but inhabitable. Perhaps Alaska? Either of the poles were too unforgiving, as would be some of the even more northern European countries. However, there was one undeniable tidbit of information she'd given him that might lead to her downfall.

Hana. Lucio. The new, young, famous recruits. They could be seen frequently prattling on the net about their travels and gigs around the world. But, as they were both part of Overwatch, sooner or later they'd have to stop their daytime jobs to convene with the others. That... That would be his hint. A connection was all that he needed, and it was easy to find in Italy. There seemed to be a cafe on every corner, and though he was hardly dressed for public, it was easy for him to fold into the shadows of the building, snatching a tablet with relative ease from some poor tourist's coat and setting to work.

As expected, they were young, as decidedly non-secretive about where they'd been and what they'd been doing in their personal lives. After a brief tour of duty for her home country Korea, Hana, callsign, D.Va had done three gaming tournaments, of which she won all three. Lucio had been more or less around the globe on some kind of musical world tour with two other relatively famous musicians. At every concert, he spoke of love and spoke out against the inequality in the world. Part of it almost made Reaper sick.

Still. The evidence was there. Every three or so weeks, both celebrities became obscenely quiet all across their social media domains. Three weeks, always lining up at the same times. While Hana was slightly quieter about where she was going next, Lucio had no luxury of secrecy. An itinerary of his shows for the next three months was laid out in plain black and white, bold and stylish across the first page of his professional website.

 _Bingo,_ a voice echoed into Reaper's head with such clarity that he must have once heard it a hundred times, but by the drawl and inflection, he knew beyond any doubt what cowboy the phrase belonged to. The next show was set in five days, in Amsterdam. Not so far away that he couldn't make it, but far enough that it would be difficult to get there on foot. Reaper would have to abandon his attire for the time being, and find a proper feed so that he could look more or less... normal. And if he could do all this without Talon trailing him, all the better, but Sombra would surely be their go-to the moment they realized he was missing. His own face would give him away, so he would need shades and a hood. He never fancied himself a thief of any kind, it wasn't in his nature, but he wasn't given much room to work with. Any purchase might give him away.

The entirety of the next day was spent feeding. This he did quietly as opposed to publicly, sweeping through the streets of Italy like a small plague. They would later call this an outbreak of some unknown disease. Sombra of course knew better. Talon was already looking for him. It was easy enough, slipping between houses, choking and ghosting the very lives out of people. Killing was something that Gabriel had gotten especially good at, even before SEP, basically since his first days in the Military. But then... He had a lot of motivation to run on back then.

 

~

 

Oscar's passing had been rough on them all. His mother and father, once so inseparable, began to argue and fight against each other. Divorce had sorted out the rest, and sooner rather than later. Gabriel was seeing them on different days for the same holidays. His guitar saw less and less use and began to collect dust in his apartment. Another year passed and Henrique joined the Air Force at the last possible moment. For all accounts, he was already too old to join up, but the first of the Omnic attacks had been devastating. Now, everywhere around the world, nations lined up and assessed their soldiers, their ships and their missiles. At the top of his class, Henrique had been first in line to take on the new bastions that had ripped holes as wide as buildings through whole city districts.

Henrique came home in a bag with an American flag only a month after the first attacks.

Gabriel was beside himself with his grief, sitting there in a church pew besides his sobbing mother, sister, and father. Despite how he wanted to, the tears had dried up in his eyes, kept still by the raw, unadulterated rage that began to pump through his veins. Reaper had been born that day, a manifestation of hate, pain and darkness. Nothing could solve this, nothing in the world. Henrique laid there in his finest suit, casket open from the waist up, concealing his open pelvis and severed legs. His eyes were closed, face, peaceful, regal. It was far softer than the hardened expression he had usually worn, the face that Gabriel had looked up to. Somehow, he knew that it was not the face the man had worn minutes before his death.

 _Come get me, you metal fucks._ That was exactly how he pictured his brother dying, fighting out his every breath, fire in his eyes, a rifle in his hands, staining the ground with copious amounts of crimson colored defiance. A true hero, he thought.

It wasn't until later, when Gabriel was alone that he felt the true grief hit him. He wept, seemingly for days, but the more he did, the more his rage began to consume him. Omnics did this. Omnics would pay for what had happened. Nothing else in his life mattered now. What chance did cops have against power like this? None. Abandoning his goals immediately, Gabriel enlisted within a week of the funeral. It took only a little time, given how eager the US was for fighters, especially eager ones in light of how many were now terrified by the new machines. Army. He wasn't cut for flying anywhere, no, he wanted to be on the ground, but knew he wasn't quite fit for something as physically demanding as the Marines, at least, not yet.

The following months were short, heated and brutal. Never in his life had Gabriel tried so hard to be good at anything, and good he got. Before long, he was outpacing his other recruitees, overcoming obstacles like they were a joke to him. Even his drill sergeants seemed taken aback by his eagerness. _Never seen someone so eager to die,_ he heard one lament quietly when they were bunking.

After that, it was only a matter of time before his name was tossed into the bucket for the Soldier Enhancement Program. Once selected, he was debriefed, filled out another insane amount of paperwork and was set on his way.

Sent on his way on a copter, to that tarmac, where he first met Jack Morrison.

 

~

 

These memories had filtered back to Reaper in small chunks, but now formed a whole, patching the point from his life before the attacks until the dawn of the SEP. That, however, still eluded him, at least most of it.

The next morning, he had already acquired the difficult part of his plan, an outfit. At night, all the stores were closed and locked, but locks never meant anything to Reaper. It was all too easy for him to get in, get what he needed, and get out. For now, his 'theatrical' get up would have to take a back seat, despite how much he preferred it. A grey beanie had tugged at his heartstrings, so he snagged that too. As soon as he'd changed into it all, he set about the final stage of his move. A plane ticket. He did have some money, after all, Talon had to pay them in _something._ Of course, his electronic card was tapped. They could see it wherever he went. Unless, of course, he turned it into cash. That was exactly what he did at the nearest money exchange, and minutes later, afforded the next flight to Amsterdam. Flying coach with a stolen ID that vaguely resembled him, it was crammed, and no one noticed so long as he didn't make any waves or go off in any metal detectors. He didn't of course. Why would he, when he could simply produce his guns at a moment's notice? Grey beanie, hood down, face completely shaven, a handheld backpack filled with stereotypical traveler's supplies and just a touch of cover up for those identifiable scars of his. He was barely recognizable, and indeed, no one seemed to catch the difference between the ID photo and his own face. They seemed even less inclined to speak to them when he pretended to speak nothing but Spanish.

The flight there was quiet and unimpressive, and was he not afraid of another nightmare, he might have slept on the plane. The last thing he needed now was to give himself away by waking up with two shotguns in his hands, or, suddenly in full terrorist gear again. There were certain advantages to his abilities, but others, not so much. Particularly the ability to wraith anything attached to his person at will, though it was far, far easier the less he carried. Luckily, his binge feeding had given him all the power he'd need for this little rendezvous with Lucio, at least for now.

 

Finally, it was nearly time. He'd kept to the streets and alleyways as much as possible, only showing up when Lucio's concert was about to take place. He needed to follow the man and get onto that plane. If his assumptions about every three weeks were correct, he'd find out about it at the DJ's after party, or perhaps aboard the plane he was going to be stowing onto. The music was loud, the light show ostentatious, shadows everywhere. It was the perfect environment for a shade to linger in. Sure, the kid was talented. Once upon a time, Gabriel may have even liked music like this, that was, if he could ever turn off the harsh, screaming guitar riffs or emotional provocations he was so very used to. Good luck, though. It didn't matter now, the frog was too interested in his crowd to even suspect anyone was there or that anything could happen. He started his show with a speech about acceptance, about letting go of hate, and fostering new friendships, forging ahead in new directions, abandoning greed and regret. That was all well and good, Reaper supposed, but it wasn't exactly his shtick. The only thing that would ever make him feel better was revenge, and for once, some solid answers to ease him into closure. Then, and only then, would he consider mending. For now? Reaper, the ever-present weapon lurking within him, was the means to all of his success. And now, Lucio was just a tool to help him get there. Sooner or later, Lucio would lead him straight to Overwatch HQ. That was the plan, and he was sticking to it. Talon, Sombra or Widow wouldn't interfere here. Not anymore.

 

This was his gig now, whether Lucio knew it or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all for reading, please let me know privately if you find a spelling error or something that really sticks out as incorrect!
> 
> Song lyrics are *still* from the song "Pain" by Three Day's Grace.


	4. Agony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: suicide, death, violence, etc.  
> Widow also becomes a bit more prevalent.

Barely more than a shoebox. A dark, unfeeling, lonely shoebox. The holo-tele was off, all comms were silent, and in the blackness of her room, Widow sulked. All but submerged in a tub, she stared at the wall before her, tiled and sterile. Two candles nearby were all that kept her company, their warm yellow glow contrasting against her pale blue flesh and navy-toned soaked hair. She had let it down out of its ponytail for now, loosely draped down over her chest and meagerly covering her as much as it was able. Sinking deeper, the water touched under her chin and brought fresh drifts of steam over her fair, smooth features. The steam reminded her of him. Yellow eyes shut away and she sighed, shaming herself for the thought. _That ignorant, American fool_ , she relented in her own mind. It had been three days now since Reaper had gone AWOL from Talon, and to say that they were less than pleased was an understatement. Already, she knew that she would be the one they sent to find him, and if they asked it, put him down... If such a thing was even possible, she wondered.

Most kills were easy; mere targets. Faces with names but no meaning.

But him?

_Augh! Why did this bother her so much?_

He _did_ save her, not once, but twice, she thought bleakly. Not only in Madrid, but during Overwatch's heroic, albeit devastating rescue of Doctor Ziegler. When Talon refused to let her in on what had happened during the escape, Sombra had provided some key details.

 

~

 

A video. It was poor quality, but it did it's job. White hot pain at the memory of Seventy-Six driving bullets deeply into her thigh and torso. She was losing a good amount of blood. That was where her memory ended and the video took over. The two soldiers had faced off against one another, and even Reaper had barely escaped. But then, though he should have just fled outright, he didn't. The entire corridor could have come down onto him, but instead, he took the time to collect her, despite that he very clearly was not meant to have. Widow spent hours upon hours watching people, learning them, their little habits, anticipating their little movements that would lead them straight into her cross hairs. She knew Reaper just about as well as anyone, and though he had no facial expressions, she saw the hesitation in his body. Talon had not wanted him to rescue her. He was going against orders doing that, but yet, he had gotten her to safety anyway, and then to top it off, stopped her bleeding. What would compel him to do such a thing, she wondered? It was obvious that between them that there was little to no camaraderie, let alone friendship, but when she was at her weakest, deemed a loss by _even_ her company, _he_ hadn't let her die.

“Why are you showing me this?” Widow had asked Sombra at the time. The young hacker smiled and waved almost dismissively.

“I think because we both know what they're going to ask you to do, don't we? I, for one, think it would be a loss. We need him. He's no good to us dead, don't you think?”

Widow's expression had hardened then and grown sharp, an automatic response. “I will do _anything_ the company asks of me, Sombra. It isn't _our_ decision whether he lives or dies.” Her voice was a hissed, insulted snarl.

Sombra shrugged, “Mmh! I guess. It's really none of my business, is it? _Just hope you don't need him to save you again, yeah?_ ” The girl had laughed in her typical, if condecending, casual way and then left, leaving Widow to her thoughts.

 

~

 

Now, her voice echoed in Widow's mind. She sunk down further into the tub, closing her eyes, letting the water drift up over her ears and brows, until the water consumed her entire body. The sound of her own heartbeat was slow, almost inhuman, reminding her that she was, indeed, still alive. The heat of the water soothed the unnatural chill in her flesh and brought warmth to her bones. Feelings were a muted thing, but the longer she had been around _him_ , the more they'd developed, much to her dismay. Though she most often felt anger, sometimes there was a hint of something else. Amusement, appreciation... kinship.

Reaper was her friend. Maybe her only friend. He had tried, if a bit weakly, to make her question the comforts in her life, to make her see beyond what Talon told her to see.

But Talon was her life. Talon was everything. Talon had given her purpose.

Now, if Talon asked her to kill him, would she do it?

Of course she would. She had no where else to go.

Reaper made his choice.

Now she would make hers.

 

_You're sick of feeling numb._  
_You're not the only one._  
 _I'll take you by the hand,_  
 _And I'll show you a world that you can understand._

 

Lucio's last gig had just ended, and they were now on their way to the ship that would take them all back to Overwatch HQ, not that Lucio knew he had company. The last of the lights were shutting down and the crowds were still loud with applause as they began to filter out of the massive stadium back to wherever they'd all come from. Amidst the ending chaos, it was easy for Reaper to find his way around without being seen, right up until the group headed back stage.

Reaper wondered why and how it was that Talon hadn't managed to find him already. Surely, with Sombra watching half the computers in the world and more of its cameras, they should have found _something._ Discretion had always been one of Gabriel's strong suits when he chose to employ stealth, but it was hard to hide from the all-seeing eyes of the world. Sombra was one such eye, and he had no illusions that she'd probably begun looking for him immediately. For whatever reason, he hadn't been stopped, so here he was, an ethereal wraith ghosting along after Lucio's small troupe of touree's. No one saw him there, not when it was already so late out, or with the many colors to distract them. The conversation between them meant nothing, but he eavesdropped all the same. Among the casual chatter, Reaper discovered that Lucio would be leaving his entourage at the take off point. Naturally, they weren't part of the arrangement, so they wouldn't be going.

The ride to the air strip was as loud as expected in the car full of musicians, everywhere except where Reaper was hiding- the trunk. Even still, Lucio's loud beats and their obnoxious laughter echoed into the chamber with ease. It was his least favorite part of the entire plan.

 

Hours later, they arrived, and finally, after their goodbyes, Lucio was alone. A ghost was easy to miss, racing across the black tarmac to where the ship rested, slipping up into the workings of it via the landing gear and finding a suitable hiding place. He had no idea how long they'd be up here, so he settled in somewhere he could remain relatively comfortable: the cargo hold, luckily kept pressurized and warm for some of Lucio's more delicate equipment. Once it was all boxed up and locked, he let himself become solid again, stretching out and allowing his bones to creak and muscles to stretch. There were vents in and out of this chamber, and at some point he would need to see where they were going, but the cabin would be well lit. Well lit areas left him especially little room to move, so he'd have to be careful. This time alone allowed his thoughts to drift to what he was doing and all that he had discovered. Mercy knew him. Jack Morrison was Seventy-Six, his oldest friend of whom he remembered especially little. Even the parts of his memory that he knew should have had Jack in them, his SEP days, for one, seemed to have these strange, gaping blank gaps of nothingness. And Overwatch, whoever and whatever they were, had been erased entirely from his mind. All he knew of them now was what he saw on Media, and what Talon had told him. McCree... Another name that he remembered well. He would find him, too, if none of this panned out. He knew Overwatch had files, too, surely they kept records. His attack on Winston's lab in Gibraltar had not landed the results he wanted it to, but there was no doubt that he was keeping intel there that Reaper needed.

In the darkness of the cargo hold, he sat, listening, thinking, weighing every moment for any signs of progress. Something told him it would be a long flight, but he could not afford to rest. What was he going to do once he arrived at Overwatch HQ? He was not so foolish as to think he could subdue everyone there, and then also abduct mercy again. Especially not now, knowing that Jack was working with them. What if Ziegler wasn't even there? Who would he take then? What did he intend to do with the information he found?

_What happens if you get there and find out that everything Talon told you is true? Won't you feel stupid then?_ Yes, he would, he thought at once. But at least then, he'd have enough information to pass over to Talon to give them reason to forgive him. That was the plan, anyway. But, he could not do this with them breathing down his neck. He had his own means of accomplishing goals. Whether or not they were moral, well, that was another story entirely... But then, something told him that had been the case for a long, long time, perhaps even before he was Reaper. Few could argue that his methods produced results, however.

And what if it _was_ true? That Overwatch had done this to him? What would he do then?

 

_They will all die,_ he thought, looking down at himself where he sat in the cargo hold. Through the gaps in his armor, his flesh wafted with black smoke, sometimes drifting straight up off of the armor itself, and through the holes in his mask regularly. When he fed, that was a mystery all in itself. He still wasn't quite sure how it worked, he only knew that being around the dead, those who had recently died, seemed to restore him somehow. It didn't even have to be people he killed himself. But his body always reformed, his skin regained its color, even his eyes. It was easier to hold his shape when he had recently fed, and easier to move in and out of wraith form at will. But the hungrier he got... The more impossible it became to sate his urges and keep himself together. Talon had always given him a means to satisfy his hunger. That was why he had stayed for so long. Raw survival. Now, he could do it without them, but then what purpose did he serve? They had pulled him from the wreckage of the explosion. An explosion they said that Overwatch had dropped upon him and several others in an attempt to fuel propaganda. As, though none had confirmed it, many speculated Talon was to blame for the explosion. Who knew, really? He would find out, one way or another.

 

After a few more hours, it was time to go out and take a look. The rest of the plane was quiet. Black mist that he was, he siphoned himself up into a vent and moved along, using his eyes to scout around. Lucio and a pilot and two others were all that had attended, a private body guard of some kind and a server, no more. Outside it was still dark, but a line of blue on the horizon suggested that morning had arrived. Sweeping himself further up the ship, he eavesdropped on the pilot's chamber. No words were passed, but on a holoscreen at the left of the windshield, he saw small, flashing coordinates. Beneath it, a city and country.

Murcia, Spain.

Spain? It was all but a few hours away from Gibraltar. Why there?

Perhaps, he supposed, they thought that staying close would keep them inconspicuous. Indeed, Talon had expected their new HQ to be especially far away from anywhere they had known Overwatch to be stationed, especially since Mercy had said that it was cold there. Spain didn't exactly qualify. Were they not going to the HQ after all? Reaper returned to the cargo hold. There was nothing he could do now besides wait and see what he was working with.

 

When they arrived, hours later, Reaper quickly discovered that things are as he expected. What should have been an Overwatch HQ was little more than a small cluster of studio buildings, barely more than an operations hub. It was quiet, easily forgotten and missed amongst busy city streets, smoke stacks nearby indicating an industrial zone of the city. Could he had been mistaken in his assumption? Was this instead Lucio's private... getaway? Somehow, Reaper doubted it. He disembarked seconds before the cargo doors were opened and the musician's gear was unloaded, riding beneath the luggage carrier back to the buildings in question. An operation's base was all that it was. Scouting the building effortlessly, he found nothing... Nothing but old memories.

The walls were a pale cream color, with grey floors and blue painted lines that indicated directions to different parts of the facility. There were almost no windows, anywhere, and those that did exist were dirty and covered with chain link fencing, bars, or chicken wire. It struck him as a small mental hospital, a sterile, unwelcome facility with fluorescent lights that seemed to wash the true color out of everything. Here and there, someone had placed a fake potted plant to give the illusion of comfort. Above all, the place seemed entirely abandoned. There was no one here, no one except for.. Lucio. But he found rooms, rooms with empty beds that had been properly made up with grey bedsheets, unused picture frames on the walls, unpowered holo-teles. There was something uncomfortably familiar about it all.

 

~

 

His mind reels into a flashback. The place he looks at he knows without having to even recall it. He's seen it before, a hundred times. SEP. Its a room, or rather, a tiny living area. There's a couch off to the left of the door that he stands in, and just on the other side of that, another door. Theres a holo-tele on the right wall, and on either side of that, two doors. He knows without looking that those two doors lead to bedrooms, and that the door on the left wall beside the couch leads to a bathroom. All the walls are a sort of medium, desaturated blue. There's no windows, but vents in the ceilings and floors to circulate air. Recycled, sterile air. Sitting on a small table below the tele there's a stack of old memdrives, movies, shows, old videos. He steps in further, the carpet beneath his feet isn't as soft as it used to be when they first arrived, it's flattened now by their constant trodding, stained with their blood and a few spilled drinks, he could remember getting into brawls here. Not fights, but wrestling, he could hear the sound of laughter, a warm feeling bloomed in his chest.

His room, the door on the right of the tele, he steps in. A dresser full of uniform black clothing. There's a shirt on the floor, a number imprinted upon it. Seventy-five. There's a guitar case in the corner, unopened.

“Reyes?”

 

~

 

A voice. It shocks him out of his memory. Reaper has become solid somehow, standing there in the hallway, he flinches and becomes nothing at once, exploding into a black cloud in instantaneous panic. Alas. There's no one there. He's completely alone. No one seems to have even noticed him, if anyone is even there. Reaper resumes his search, shaken by the sudden memory. He's had memories of SEP before, but this one felt more real, it felt... vivid and special somehow. And yet.. Wrong. Like he shouldn't have had it at all. Reaper felt goosebumps lift onto the surface of his flesh. He was solid again, standing now in a room that was clearly at one point a security room. There's no holo-tele's on the wall, but the paint is different shades of cream where the tele's used to be, and there's holes in the drywall where they had been mounted. Ultimately, the room is empty all except for a small file cabinet in the back corner. The first three drawers are entirely empty, and the last, the final fourth drawer closest to the floor is nearly as abandoned, but within it, he finds one small paper, half ripped, mildly wrinkled. On it, he catches a few words.

Gibraltar, Numbani, Moscow, and Nigeria.

Among these, Moscow stands out the most. Mercy had said the location of their new HQ was cold. It would be cold there now, at this time of year, but then, Reaper was inclined to think that Moscow was generally colder than most places. Numbani, Gibraltar. Both places he knew that Overwatch had operated before. Nigeria? Not personally, but it was possible. Could it be that Overwatch operated in much the same fashion as Talon did, moving from place to place, nomads without a permanent home? Wouldn't that be the easiest way not to get stopped?

 

But...

Petras has been repealed, for now. Who were they hiding from?

Talon.

Lucio was the only one here.

D.Va hadn't arrived here, at least not yet, not if she was going to.

 

Then, the fine hairs on the back of Reaper's neck bristled, there was a sound in the hallway just behind him. He wasn't alone.

At once, he began to shift into vapor, but before he could finish the transformation, a voice cut through the air.

“Reyes?”

Reaper gulped hard and expanded himself so massively that he was hardly more than a very thin fog in the room within which he was trapped. There were no vents in here. No windows. No way out except through that door.

“You're not going to find them. Not here.” The voice was rough, worn.

Jack Morrison.

Reaper felt rage filter into his system like a drug.

The pulse rifle nudged its way into the doorway, and suddenly, the man with the visor was there. He found reaper suspended, taking up the entirety of the room, his eyes a pair of glowing red pupils amidst black haze.

_What are you waiting for,_ Reaper thought, glaring at him.

Jack stared back levelly, raising his rifle.

“Its not here. The answer you want.”

How did they even find him? The question screamed into Reaper's mind.

 

Suddenly, they were fighting again. Reaper had assumed his form in seconds, two shotguns took their place in his hands and within seconds, the sounds of their gunfire ricocheted off the walls. For someone Jack's age, he moved well, rolling out of the line of fire with relative ease, wheeling and firing back. Why did it seem that Jack showed up everywhere that Reaper ended up being? He began to feel less like he was hunting, and more like he was being hunted. Why had Jack called him Reyes just then? Jack was talking to Mercy. Mercy had told him that she had seen him. Therefore, he knew where she was. Just like that, this fight became... useful. His shots became less lethally aimed, but instead, looking to cripple. Jack wasn't expecting that, and in his attempt to shield his face, left his leg open. Reaper clipped him and the soldier went down with a harsh yell.

“Why are you here?!” Reaper snarled, suddenly closing in, his boot stepping on Jack's wounded ankle. The other snapped up, kicking the pulse rifle away from Jack's hands. But, those hands latched onto him at once and jerked, causing them to grapple. Reaper's hands flew out, catching himself, wraithing for a moment to get free of his hold before latching his talons around Jack's throat. “ _Why. Are. You. Here,”_ he repeated venomously.

“For YOU.” Seventy-Six suddenly roared despite the hands on his throat, throwing his weight and wheeling so that Reaper was beneath him. For a moment, Reaper was taken aback, so much so that it was easy for Jack to force his arm up, knocking away the hands on his throat and leaning forward, returning the gesture by leaning into the hollow of the wraith's neck, and then, with stunning resilience despite his injury, he reached up with his free hand, shoved his fingers into the holes of Reaper's mask and jerked it away. “ _I had to see for myself if it was really yo-”_ But his words cut off. He stared into Reaper's face. Reyes' face. The mask was thrown aside. The visor Seventy-Six wore covered almost all of his emotions, but the raise of his brows and the wrinkling of his forehead made it clear that he was shocked.

Reaper took his chance and wraithed out of the hold at once, growling horrifically and fetching his discarded mask from the floor. He heard Jack behind him howl with rage, scrambling for his pulse rifle, guns materialized in the shade's hands, but he was fleeing.

“REYES! WHY?!” Jack roared, suddenly barreling down the hall after Reaper, too spent from his fight to keep dissipating out of it. “How long can you possibly expect to keep running! Some day you will pay for this- You will pay for everything you've done, and everyone you've killed!” He heard the soldier snarl after him.

Then, there was a blinding light, a sound that caused his ears to ring with pain, and suddenly Reaper was thrown backwards. His ears each uttered a high pitched whine, bled, and now, a new pain blossomed through his spine. Head spinning, he could hear a hail of footsteps coming down the hall. Seventy-Six was coming for him. Besides that, an unusual deafness took him. Even Lucio's yelling nearby was all but inaudible, fuzzy. A single thought erupted into Reaper's mind, a kind of primal instinct. _ESCAPE._

_Get out or it's all over, Boss._ That southern twang was just slightly indicative enough to let Reaper know he'd heard it before. Why was Jesse in his head? Wait, when had he become Jesse, and not simply McCree? No time for questions, in a few seconds, a pulse rifle would open him from gut to brain, and he would have nothing left, especially not since Jack seemed as all-consumed by rage as he was.

“ _Hey, this wasn't part of the plan, man!”_ he barely heard someone yell. The boots had stopped in front of him.

“Plans change.” A rough, gravelly voice. Then, there was the rough, harsh butt of a weapon being brought down onto him, exploding pain in Reaper's temple.

When it hit, he too erupted, but this time, into a black clouded abyss. The teleportation was barely a possibility at this point, but it was his saving grace here. Reaper got out, and the moment he reappeared, god knew where, he vomited a familiar black bile, his skin had paled considerably, and pain rolled through him in droves. He was still mostly deafened, and now he was hungry.

In pain and in some unknown alley nearby, the scent of dust and dirt overwhelmed him. Reyes saw clarity for a very brief moment, through the haze of his anger and pain, he could see it. Jack hated him. Jack blamed him for this. For everything. Jack wanted him dead for the same reasons that Reaper wanted to kill him in turn. None of this made sense. Overwatch, and Jack, were the reason for all of this. But if that was the case... None of it lined up properly. Jack's anger made no sense.

But at least now, Reaper had something. Another location. A likely place to start looking for Doctor Ziegler. Moscow. It seemed to him that by the time he finally found her, he'd have a whole book of things for her to answer.

Right now, however. He needed rest. Rest, food, and time to heal. He couldn't very well stay in this alleyway, so he retreated himself to the most repulsive place he could find, a place no one went. Ancient sewers beneath the city, some still used, others, less so. Amidst this darkness, no one would find him, and no one did.

 

~

 

Sleep however, was never kind to him. When there weren't nightmares, there were memories. Most of them were a mix of both. This was something like that. Jack was behind him, shoving a blade into his spine, his words echoing in a horrendous chorus. _You did this. You'll pay for what you've done. You deserve this, Reyes._ Then, the knife twisted, and everything hurt all over again. Reaper screamed, curling into himself, shuddering until a cold sweat overcame him. Suddenly, he was on a church pew. The sound of Jack's voice morphed and changed, turning into the melancholy thrum of a piano, quiet and soft, the faint sound of sobbing. He stopped and stood.

 

It was a funeral. Rosa sat on the bench right next to where he had just been, her eyes damp, her makeup smeared, a black had, black veil, black dress, small, black sandals. In the far back pew, away from everyone else, in quiet resignation, his father sat, his head down turned. Gabriel looked back to the altar, a few steps up, a funeral wreath with white lilies and red flowers, petals everywhere, on and around the casket, a dark oak wood thing, the top open for viewing. Letters written by friends and family sat in a basket nearby. His cheeks were damp, but his feet felt like lead. Reluctantly, he carried himself forward. He had to see it for himself.

 

_Dance with me, you little fool._

Gabriel felt his voice die in his throat with a bitter sob. His hand reached up suddenly, touching his lips, gasping. She looked as beautiful now as she always did. Her hair done, her makeup, flawless. Her face seemed so placid. Everyone had always said that he had her smile, but now, it could not be further from touching his face than it was. He stared at her, his hands latching onto the side of the casket, he could still feel the wood of it beneath his rough hands, hardened by military training.

_Who knows when I will see you again?_

Though his bleary eyes, he looked at her, a rush of shame overwhelming him. Reaper reared his head in the back of Gabriel's mind, a constant friend, now. _Omnics did this, didn't they? If they hadn't started this war- if they hadn't killed Henrique..._

He blinked again, and suddenly, he could see the band of paler flesh around her neck, the skin stretched and taught up near her jawline where gravity had pulled her down onto it. The belt she had used had been tight enough to get the job done. No one had found her for three days. Gabriel screamed and crumpled to his knees, feeling petals crush beneath his weight. His hands, scarred, hooked claws in his mind, came up around his head, sheltering him from the outside world and subsequently tearing into his scalp, his stomach sinking. He could hear nothing beyond his hate, nothing beyond the rage that welled itself inside him.

 

~

 

Reaper awoke then, shaking and shuddering, his body a black, smoking mess, his injuries slowly healing themselves. It had been hours. There was no light, but he could tell. The passage of time was a palpable thing. Inside, he still ached at what he had just seen. It was not the first time that this memory had terrorized him, but it had certainly been the most impactful. Jack had gotten into his head. He would have to do something about it. Reaper would do something about it, absolutely.

 

_Anger and agony are better than misery._

_Trust me._

 

Getting back on his feet was anything but easy. He'd been shaken badly by all that had happened, and now, confusion clouded his calculated mind so much so that by the end of all that had transpired, all he could keep his mind focused on was Moscow.

It took days to get there, from hopping planes, light rails and ships, feeding aimlessly along the way, by the time Reaper arrived, he was every bit the monster that the media advertised him. So much so that he was convinced now that, no matter what the truth was, he was sure he wasn't going to like it. Many times, he was tempted to give up this task. To abandon his need to learn the truth, and simply accept himself for what he had become. The threads of his old life meant nothing now, anyway, right? He hadn't seen any of his remaining family in years. He had no idea where Rosa was, and even if she was still around, she was an old woman now, like he and Jack were old men. Moreover, he had changed, and she wouldn't know him, and if she knew... If she knew who and what he'd become, she would be ashamed. Surely it was easier to let her live out the last few years of her life thinking that her only remaining sibling had died as... Well as what he assumed to be a military hero. That was a fond idea, even if Reyes knew somehow it wasn't true. And his dear old dad? Surely he hadn't lived this long, not after the way he'd gone down hill after his mother's suicide. If he was alive now, he would be so old that he could die any day, or perhaps he, like Reaper, remembered nothing at all anymore.

Reaper had no family. He had no one anymore. No friends. No kin.

Nothing but Talon, he reminded himself.

They, at least, seemed to care about him, even if nothing more than an asset.

So why then was he working against them?

He made a decision then. The decision was that as soon as he had the information from whoever he ended up getting it from, he would hand them over to Talon. That had been an idea before, but now it was a certainty. Widow was right. Talon was his life now, and why should he question what they had done for him? Was he ungrateful? _Perhaps,_ he thought.

Moscow was a cold, unforgiving place this time of year. There was snow in every direction, and even now, it came down in steady drifting sheets, coating everything and everyone in its iridescent white weight. How could he possibly hope to find Mercy here?

Easy enough, he supposed. Thus far, every facility they'd inhabited were the least accommodating places humanly possible. Every one of them had looked abandoned and entirely inconspicuous. He made a direct line for the dirtiest, most run down part of the city, but Moscow was huge, it could take hours to find even a hint.

It might have, too, if Hana Song hadn't made a post about how 'beautiful' Moscow looked this type of year, then dropped a photo of herself near some fairly remarkable brilliant colored roof tops. Finding the scene of the picture took some time, but he found the small celebrity handing out autographs to a sizable collection of fans before she was wandering off again with her entourage of bodyguards.

He followed them all the way to a resort building where she was said to be staying. While her room was secured several levels above the ground floor, it was the massive underground workings that caught his attention first. He might not have even known they were there if he hadn't spotted the hiss of steam rise out through a ground vent outside. It wouldn't have been there if it wasn't pumping air into or out of the building, and resorts like this seldom had heated basements. Overwatch seemed to really like their underground facilities, he learned easily enough. The vent made it easy enough for him to get in and look around. Cameras, a turret here and there... This was definitely the place. It was a maze, to be sure, but marked with the same sterility as the other places, walls marked with blue dashed lines leading directions. Unfortunately, these vents left especially few escape avenues. They had clearly made this place with him in mind. It was too far down for him to teleport out, and too winding for him to keep up this vaporous form for long. Moreover, all the vents exited into populated rooms with cameras. Getting to Ziegler this way wasn't going to work, especially since she was, once again, on the bottom floor. Eight floors down, working with none other than the sword-wielding cyborg that had once been Genji Shimada. As far as Reaper was concerned, he was hardly more a man than any of the omnics walking among them. All the same, he knew the ninja would put up a formidable fight if he dared to go in and take her out as he had before. By the way they were looking at each other and the small touches passed between them, they obviously shared more than Doctor's visits. Reaper might have laughed, if it wouldn't have given him away.

How best then to get her out of the building? Going in would make a scene, and he was not strong enough to defend himself from everyone. He needed chaos, something to give him cover while he got what he needed. He laid his plan out carefully, well aware that his plans did not always go accordingly. Starting chaos would be easy, it was getting through it and getting away unfettered that would be difficult. Where would he take Mercy when this was all said and done, anyway? It wasn't as though he had a place just waiting for this sort of use. For now, he left the building. They didn't know he was here yet, and he needed a solution before trying to engage them. Before, he had a secure Talon prison to keep her in. Now? Not so much. Even that had been broken into. After his attack on the operation's hub in Murcia, they'd surely know he was still out, still looking. Perhaps they even knew he was without Talon at this point.

_Where was Talon, anyway? It had been almost two weeks since he left._

 

Reaper finds his makeshift prison across the city, on the outskirts in some suburbs. It's distant enough that flying a ship in will be difficult, and yet, not impossible to get to in a quick fashion. The factory itself is in slight disrepair, but it has something he discovers is especially useful: solid, lead-lined and reinforced concrete walls. It was clearly a bunker at some point, an old testing facility. What they made there, he had no idea, but if he had to guess, he'd say explosives of some kind. Scanners couldn't reach through these walls, nor heat signatures or EMPs, none of the things that made their age of technology so special. Sure, there were a few things that could penetrate its walls, but few of which anyone used regularly. At the least, it would buy him time to work with her before anyone got to him. In hindsight, having her awake last time had been a nightmare. He opted to find a means to put her out before hauling her anywhere. Chloroform was easy enough to make and carry with him. It would do the trick. Restraints? The factory provided him with high grade steel chains, probably for hauling large machinery, those would do well to keep intruders out and, hopefully, keep the comparatively small Doctor Ziegler at bay. Just as he was about to be set, he found something along one side of a main chamber that satisfied him greatly. Gas rooms, or maybe they were cleaning cells? They weren't as airtight now as they might have been once, but both had especially thick glass walls and solid steel doors. There was a whole row of them, at least five different rooms. Reaper began to wonder what they really _did_ manufacture here- but then... He stopped. Wasn't it obvious? He backed up slightly away from the chambers, his eyes widening behind his mask as he wheeled, surveying the whole of the dark chamber he stood in now. The fleeting sound of machine gun fire rolled through his mind. Omnics. Not only omnics, but Russia's attempt to recreate the now infamously well known Bastion units designed by Torbjorn. They had never been as effective or put into use, hence why this factory had been shut down, he realized. These prisons weren't gas chambers or cleaning rooms at all... They were observation cells, with built in incinerators. The pipes at the tops and sides of each cell must have dispensed some kind of corrosive acid to put down any bots that were malfunctioning or... misbehaving. Something about it made him shudder, but then, they were only bots.

_They were only omnics._

_Got what they deserved,_ whispered a hateful, cruel voice in the back of Reyes' mind. Reaper had no qualms about making his opinion of omnics perfectly clear. Where other people had a conscience, Reyes had adopted this instead; his pessimistic monster, the darker side that somehow pulled him through everything and kept him alive. This place would do well for his purposes, he decided.

 

That night, he brought chaos in the form of a fire. That it was arson would later become obvious, but at the time, it was nothing more than a fire. The entirety of the resort went up in minutes. People, innocent and otherwise, filtered out screaming through the front doors. Others were trapped higher up and sought the aid of deployed fire services. Reaper waited. The Overwatch crew were last to exit, and Reinhardt revealed himself, playing the hero as he charged back in to aid more people. While Genji moved to aid people to a safe distance, the doctor tended to wounded people. Seventy-Six watched from a nearby street corner, crouched in the shadow of a building, his visor gleaming. He was the guard dog here, but for once, Reaper had spotted him before being spotted himself. An idea struck him then, an idea that made him smirk a little too much beneath his mask. Ziegler would be preoccupied with this for some time, but Soldier had nothing to do.

Reaper would give him something to do.

Flanking his enemy with a wide birth, he slowly crept up to the Soldier. Knocking him out wasn't an option with chloroform, at least not with the visor on. He needed that off, especially since it clearly aided him in his targeting somehow. Surely Soldier was wearing a comm device on him, so he'd need to be taken by complete surprise. There was only one way to do this, and it was anything but easy. He moved with focus and steeled his nerves. Soldier would put up a fight, but he had to disable him as quickly as he was able. Soldier had stood, and Reaper could still see a faint limp in his stride, giving away that he hadn't healed entirely from their prior fight. Without warning, the shade lurched from the shadows and snatched his prey with outstretched arms like a trapdoor spider. Yanking Soldier back into the shadows of the alleyway, he backhanded his spiked hand across the visor with so much force as to immediately shatter it and cast its shards aside. Seventy-six started to yell only to find his throat abruptly shut down with a powerful headlock. They struggled against each other, but reaper knocked the man's injured leg out from under him. A comm device tumbled out of Jack's ear, no longer properly supported by the visor. At once it found itself crushed under Reaper's boot. Biceps tightened, choking out the Soldier's air and strangling him. He was still fighting, but losing steam. His pulse rifle lifted, but Reaper twisted, shoving Jack face-first against a wall, knocking him out momentarily and dizzying him. The gun was kicked away, but Jack wasn't done yet. A blade suddenly revealed itself in his hand, unsheathed from a side pouch Reaper hadn't noticed before. Then, before Reaper could even think to stop him, it was buried into his flesh, lodged to the hilt deep into his thigh. Reaper wanted to howl in pain and rage, but couldn't. If he moved, Jack would breathe again and raise the alarm. The knife was removed and stabbed again, this time, it didn't go as deep. A hiss of pain growled past the mask. Black smoke seeped out of him and rasped in his breaths. He was losing blood. Not an insane amount, but enough to hamper his abilities significantly. Chloroform, it was his only chance now. He reached for the soaked rag he had hidden in a locked pouch on his belt earlier, now smothering it over Soldier's face. In moments, the fight was finally over. It felt like it had taken ten minutes, but in reality, it had barely been more than a few seconds. No one outside the alleyway was even remotely aware that anything had happened beyond the blazing inferno across the street.

Despite being in pain, Reaper found adrenaline to be his most powerful ally here, powering him through his agony and reminding him of his momentary triumph. Jack was bound up at once, and as soon as he was sure it was safe, Reaper began the arduous task of hoisting him over a shoulder and hauling him through the night back to the old factory. This easily took an hour, even though Reaper had dragged him into the sewers to move with greater speed and to avoid any chance of being seen. The factory came into sight and he ebbed in through the same open door he'd left when he'd departed earlier. The steel door was shut and locked with a twist behind him. Soldier was dropped into the second observation chamber from the left as he entered the shadowed corner of this massive room. It felt more like a hallway, given how much broken down machinery and abandoned storage formed a near-wall across from the row of cells. Reaper barely needed light to see what he was doing, and this late at night, it was all but pitch black in here. Still, he managed to bind Jack up with the chains to the poles about the cell, leaving him propped up, arms over his head bound to the bar, feet bound to circular rings in the ground with cuff-bearing chains. Then, he shut and locked the chamber, the sound of it echoing off the walls of the factory. Looking down at his thigh, Reaper assessed the damage. The blade had gone almost completely through him on the first strike, and the second had done a fair amount of damage too. Without hesitation, he did what he had to in order to stem the bleeding, tearing off a strip of cloth from his coat, and tying it tight with a grimace about the injury. It would heal itself over time, as would the cloak for that matter, but for now, he couldn't do more than that. He had to be fast, after all, the fire would likely be out by now. Mercy may have already moved on.

When he did find her, he found it was not the fire, but the crowds that had delayed her. Among the chaos, she had been recognized. In fact, most of the Overwatch cast in attendance had been, and now the media swarmed them like gnats. Reinhardt was being interviewed by three different people, Torbjorn was nearby, but his eyes were scanning the crowd, and the darker places in between. Ziegler looked concerned. D.va was trying to keep people's spirits up, but even she looked stressed. Genji was no where to be seen. No doubt about it, they knew their shining poster-child had gone missing during the fray. They knew Reaper was here, but in their desire not to cause a panic, no one had said anything, instead, they all seemed to be urging them to evacuate, to leave the area immediately should anything else happen. More than a few whispers were heard about a possible Talon attack. Reaper would have to be careful, they were no doubt looking for him.

“Angela!” Called a familiar, accented voice. Genji returned from who knew where exactly, but in his hand he carried something. Reaper, leering from a nearby window, shadowed and unseen, could make out the shape of Jack's broken visor. “I've found something. We need to move.” He whispered as soon as she had left the crowd behind her. He was already leading her back to where the fight had taken place. Reaper would have to deal with him too, it seemed. He could not afford for them to find the path he had taken to the factory, and as he'd been bleeding, it would be easy to follow. The ninja was a far sturdier combatant with his metal limbs and defensive tactics, and given how he had seen the two talking before, he would likely be willing to do anything to keep Angela safe. Reaper needed yet another distraction. This time, he would be the distraction. Not a fire. The sound of his shotguns was a well known thing now, the media had captured it multiple times. Moreover, Reaper could use the feed, but he would have to be fast. Genji would be on him in seconds if this didn't go quite right, as would all of the other heroes there, well known and civilian.

Without another word, Reaper teleported himself to the rooftop above the crowd of media officials and victims... It was a hideous thing that he was about to do, but in his mind, it was worth the cost.

He dropped soundlessly from above, and only when he was just above them did he suddenly release hellfire upon them.

“DIE.” The shout was loud, iconic, and at once, people began to scream. His body shifted in and out of corporeality, flashing and twisting, shooting aimlessly in every direction, decimating anything and anyone he had landed on. People ducked and fled, but with ease, at least five people died instantly. Genji and Torbjorn had already moved to the defensive, coming right for him, but keeping their distance so as not to die in the cloud of death Reaper was making. He felt his power overflow, his body rebuilding, his darkness rekindling itself from their deaths. Without waiting to even finish the attack, he teleported again, this time, right behind the unsuspecting, horrified Ziegler across the street. His hand slapped across her mouth, his eyes closed and he teleported them straight down into the sewers. Before she could scream, he had tightened his hand around her throat and forced the stenchy rag across her nose and mouth. In seconds, with her deep, frantic breaths, she was out.

He carried her back to his new base of operations, and within minutes, she shared a cell directly adjacent to Jack's, on the left, chained just the same. Reaper recoiled into the darkness to now properly assess his wounds, though most had been healed by his “Death Blossom.” Or, so the media liked to call it, anyway. The name made his eyes roll.

By morning, both captives found themselves face to face with the skull-masked terrorist, the mercenary propped up on a set of heavy duty iron crates, his boots up, crossed at the ankle, staring them down from the other side of the glass. Jack's knife was passed between his talons like a toy, clinking against each metal tip and stirring them awake by its sound.

His body language spoke volumes.

 

Reaper was impossibly pleased with himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please let me know if you find any grammatical errors or misspellings!  
> Thanks so much for reading, and expect things to be getting a lot heavier from this point out!
> 
> Song lyrics are *still* from Three Day's Grace - Pain


	5. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Heavy Gore/Blood
> 
>  
> 
> See the end of the chapter for an art raffle announcement!

 

Eyes peered from behind the mask mysteriously, revealing nothing to his two captives. Dawn was hardly forgiving in its terms of light this morning, only a few spare beams of golden light peered in through cracks in the rust covered walls and calcified, rectangular windows scattered across the facility. The unfriendly red gleam from Reaper's shotguns and kneecaps illuminated the area just barely, glinting off of the shiniest metals around them, including Jack's knife, still played with like a toy between talons.

Jack was the first of the two to rouse. With his visor ruined, blue eyes stared out, hate filled towards their smug captor. Even though he couldn't see Reaper's face, he knew the man's body language better than almost anyone alive. Pride practically _radiated_ off of the shade. The way he moved, sat, and played with the deadly sharp along his metal claws. Hell, even the way he tilted his head at them reeked of triumph.

Reaper was still hungry, but that could wait. It wasn't as if he hadn't gone longer without a feed before, and despite the trying nature of the night prior, he was still running on some of his kills. He leered over at the two, but as soon as Jack roused, the vigilante became his soul focus. A wicked smirk curled the corners of his lips beneath his mask. The rage sifting off of the soldier was almost a tangible thing. The ghost leaned forward, elbows landing on his kneecaps and bringing the blade up, fiddling with it near to his mask in an almost mocking gesture.

“What's the matter, Jack? Didn't get a good night sleep?” he taunted him. “Or are you just upset that things didn't go... _according to plan_?”

Jack was quick to snap back at him, his voice rough and familiar.

“It doesn't matter. You can't keep this up.”

“Oh? You don't think so?”

“I know so.” Jack challenged. The smile Reaper wore faded and he moved to stand, casting the blade aside violently and letting it skitter across the floor until it came to a rest across the room. Ziegler was awake at this point and staring at the two, her hands tightened into small fists at the height of the bar she was chained to, over her head, about half way up the wall. She could stand if she wanted to, but perhaps wisely, she didn't.

Reaper had drawn near to the cell that Jack was in, his face only inches from the glass, the red gleam of his lights glaring off of it. The dawn had begun to lighten the room further, but only marginally. Overwatch would surely start looking for these two as quickly as they were able, so there wasn't much time to waste. Chaos from the attack however surely made any formal searches difficult.

“I'm not here to play games with you-” Reaper started, but found himself abruptly cut off.

“Good, because we're _not going_ to play your games,” The soldier barked, but he and Ziegler quickly exchanged looks. Was it good to antagonize their captor, her look seemed to ask?

Reaper glanced between them, emitting a guttural, inhuman sigh, and cracking his neck.

“You're going to tell me what I want to know, or else one of you is going to be found in pieces.”

“And the other?” Jack asked.

“That will depend entirely on the amount of information you're able to choke up.”

“What makes you think either of us will help you?”

Reaper rolled his eyes, turning away and shrugging a shoulder. He didn't have time not patience for this. “Do you _ever_ tire of this little... super-hero, boy-scout, tough-guy attitude you seem to exude? It's worn out, and you're spitting cliches. I don't have to tell you what I'm going to do with you, because it's pretty obvious, isn't it? Let me make this _simple_ for you.” He leaned forward and let his claws splay against the glass, ticking against it as he spoke, similar to the ticking of a clock, but as he did, it quickened, mimicking a heartbeat instead. “If you don't give me what I want to know, you'll both be handed over to Talon, and you'll die; at least, after whatever horrors they have waiting for you.” The ticking stopped abruptly. “But if you _give me something_... Mmh, well.. Perhaps only _one_ of you will go to Talon and _die_.

So, let's make a little recap shall we, of what I already know versus what you have yet to tell me. I know who you've got working with you now. I know that the _monkey_ has more or less taken over an old station of yours, and that you've decided to take up ranks with them again. I know that a few months ago, your _Horus_ rejoined your arsenal as well. A little more crippled, but a powerful sniper all the same. Seems to me that a lot of dead heroes are coming back to life, don't you think?”

“Not _all_ of them.” Jack snapped fiercely, staring malevolently at Reaper. But, this made the wraith grin and chuckle all the same. There was a haunted, cruel tone to his voice as he spoke, kneeling near the edge of the glass so that he and Jack were eye to eye.

“ _No. Definitely not all of them,”_ he agreed grimly. Then, he continued. “I also know that you have- er, _had_ \- a hub here. I know you've got several others, too. It's a familiar tactic, isn't it? Makes me wonder if you've been taking lessons from Talon.” He laughed shortly again then, head turning towards Mercy as she watched on in quiet, his lingering mirth echoing off the walls of their makeshift prison. “When we met... several months ago... You had some _choice_ words for me that have left me _thirsty_ for answers. It's rude you know, to leave me with such an _unprecedented_ cliffhanger. You and I have a conversation that's long waited to be finished.” He moved then to stand, but he was walking away, fetching the knife where he had thrown it across the room and spoke as he was returning. “I know that your lot set up the initial ambush. I know that you were hiding there amongst them,” he said primarily to Jack, whose cell he was now opening. “I know that you were cloaked, but I don't know how. In fact I don't know why you were out there at all. You obviously knew Talon was out that way, and you set up that trap for me specifically. You put it in a place that Widow could not reach, in a place that I could not feed, set up in such a way that it made things... especially difficult for me to traverse. Then, you used yourselves as bait.” Heavy footfalls sounded on the ground directly before Jack as Reaper approached, suddenly crouching in front of him. Recoiling against the wall, the soldier tried his chained hands again against the bar, to no avail. “And I want to know _why.”_ Reaper continued, suddenly flipping the knife in his grasp and holding it up, point first, against the underside of Jack's jaw, scruffy with a few days without a shave. Ziegler shrieked and struggled.

“No-!” She started, but Jack interrupted her.

“You ain't getting' anything out of me.” He barked, glaring into Reaper's mask, hissing.

Once more, Reaper's hideous chuckle could be heard rolling out of his mask with thick plumes of black corruption, his head tilting. “Oh, I'm not trying to get anything out of _you_.” Promising, harrowing words spoken with more puffs of black, wicked smoke, choking into Jack's immediate breathing space, filling his nostrils with that metallic, bloody, gunpowder-like scent. Reaper angled the blade a little more sharply and his voice grew demanding and frigid, black pits of his eyes twisting over at Ziegler. “ _Start talking, or you get to watch him bleed.”_

 _“_ Don't tell him a god damn thing, Angela!” Jack suddenly yelled, but Reaper twisted, bringing up his right elbow at once harshly into the side of Jack's face, enough to make him recoil and split his lip. Ziegler flinched and yelped again.

 _“SPEAK.”_ Reaper snarled. “Tell me why you were there! Tell me how you knew we were there!” But, this time, Ziegler is more resilient. Jack accepts another round of abuse, this time in the form of reinforced knuckles against his jaw. Again, she doesn't speak. Growling in rage, Reaper loses his patience and suddenly straightens up and he leans forward, abandoning his blunt tactics. Jack's already bleeding, but that doesn't seem to be doing the trick. His elbow lands against the pole that Jack's arms are tied to. Unlike Angela, Jack is unable to stand, more restrained at his knees and elbows since he is clearly the stronger of the two. The knife in Reaper's hand is slowly brought around.

Its tip finds the underside of one of Jack's fingernails.

The smallest one of the lot, his pinky.

Ziegler gasps.

Before she can think to do or say anything, Reaper suddenly twitches and Jack screams. His yell is so loud that it echoes off the walls, reverberating terrifyingly through the other cells and into the black remnants of the abandoned factory. Reaper tears away the nail all the way back to the very cuticle, leaving Jack with a screaming, bleeding nail-bed. His head snaps towards a shocked, twisting Ziegler.

 _“SPEAK”_ he roars again.

Jack, in his agony, manages to shake his head. “Don'-”

But his words are cut off, Reaper has latched onto a second finger, the next in line on that same hand. This time, the cut is slow and deliberate, painfully prying the blade between keratin and flesh, lifting upwards. He can feel the small sinews of connective tissue give way beneath his hold. Jack is screaming now and thrashing, but he is powerless to escape. Reaper shakes with rage, Jack can feel the rogue's body tremble with unadulterated fury over him.

 **“S-STOP!”** Ziegler suddenly screams, unable to handle watching and listening to Jack be tortured this way. Her voice is shaky and tears streaming now down either cheek. Jack looks visibly strained, the pain would have been taxing on anyone, but he was a soldier, surely he could handle more. Besides, fingernails grew back.

“Angela- Don'” Jack panted, the blood running down his hands and onto his arms, trailing down towards the rest of his body where it sags against the wall and floor.

“NO, Jack, _you s_ top! Don't you dare ask me to sit here and watch him do this to you!” her eyes like pools of weeping sapphire lifted to regard Reaper. Rage filled her eyes, but she would speak. He had straightened up, stepping away from Jack and peering at her through the glass between their split cells.

 _“Talk.”_ he hissed.

Trembling, her body stiffened and she looked down, eyes closing. The rivers of her cheeks replenished themselves with fresh tears and she sighed. Truly, she wanted to give him nothing, but what choice did they have? Jack may have thought he was tough, and certainly he was, but he was still mortal, all serums aside. He could still die, and Reaper could easily bring that to him if he wanted. Genji would already be looking for her, and for them both. The entire team would surely be out searching for them, and Reaper looked moderately starved, if the paleness of his exposed skin was any indication. He was on borrowed time, and Talon itself had not made an appearance last night, which meant he was either alone, or waiting for backup. Nothing good could happen if they arrived while they were still here. They needed to find a way out, or wait for Overwatch to find them.

“Tell me what you want to know first.” She said, her voice gaining a measure of confidence.

Beneath the mask, his eyes narrowed and he growled.

“Don't waste my time, Doctor.” He had flipped the blade in his hand once more, showing off the blood still dripping from its surface. “You know what I want to know.”

Reluctantly, her eyes dropped once more.

“The warehouse was meant to be an attack on you, yes.”

“Me specifically. Why?”

“Because without Widow you're weaker.” She rebuked truthfully. Reaper bristled.

“ _Am I though? Yet here you are.”_

So, Widow wasn't around at all then? That was a good sign. The doctor filed that detail away, knowing Jack had caught it too. Over all, Reaper's reply had struck her as something especially egotistical, something to be expected from someone who had something to prove. Reyes had been that way now and again, when she knew him, but it did not prove he was still in there. Thus far, as he had said himself in their last meeting, he had given her nothing to believe he was anything less than a monster.

“Yes... Well. That was the plan. Without you in the picture, we knew that Talon would be easier to take down. You are one of their two primary agents. We know that you have personally trained some of their recruits. Others of us have noticed that you're using Blackwatch procedures.

“Blackwatch?” he asked, and though the name was familiar, he couldn't place it. She stared at him awkwardly. It was true then, he had no memories at all. This complicated things. She caught Jack staring at her, too, but his expression was harder to read.

“..Y-Yes... You don't remember it...?” She asked.

“ _Last I checked, I was the one interrogating you, Doctor. Keep talking._ How did you know we were there?”

“We have intelligence. It isn't hard to fi-”

“ _Bullshit.”_ Reaper growled. “ _Talon is not some gang of thugs you can just track around the globe. You knew specifically that I was there. How?”_

Ziegler tensed, her toes curling in her shoes, looking towards Jack, her eyes wide.

 _“Speak...”_ Reaper continued, returning to Jack in a few short steps, he was threatening again, but she jolted in alarm.  
“N-No! Ok. We had an informant. We knew where you were going to be, and that you would be going... mostly alone.” her words were a stammer, she looked hesitant. “But-”

“An informant? Who? Tell me.”

“I don't know! I was never told!” She barked. Reaper's eyes narrowed and he brought the knife back to Jack's abused hand, but Ziegler screamed. “PLEASE! It's the truth! I was never told!”

“It doesn't matter now.” Jack suddenly spoke up, his voice sounded defeated. Reaper's head twisted down to the man, suddenly crouching in front of him and placing the knife against his throat.

“You knew them?”

“I knew that there was someone. Winston is the only one who knows who. But, the word is that there's been radio silence for months. We suspect they died... in our rescue.” He said, glancing back to Mercy. Reaper felt his hand tighten on the blade so much that he thought it might snap. _How coincidental that no one happens to know who their informant is except for the monkey._

“ _You expect me to believe that?”_ He seethed, growling in Jack's face.

“I expect that you're going to have to. It's all we have. I don't care if you believe it or not.” Jack fumed back at him, eyes glaring into the black pits of Reaper's hood. In his fury, Reaper stalked away. An informant? Inside Talon?

“I will find out who.” He growled finally.

“Don't you think,” Jack started, rage boiling in his voice, “That if whoever they were was still alive, that we would have known you were showing up here in Moscow?”

He had a point, but at the same time, Reaper hadn't told anyone where he was going. He had gone completely rogue at this point, something Talon surely hated... But then, that only supported their argument further. If he had gone rogue and the informant had known, they'd have surely told Overwatch that Reaper had done so.

It seemed this was an open and closed case, so Reaper moved on to the next topic.

“Ziegler. You said my name while I was interrogating you. I'm no fool. You know who I am- or who I was.” He said, stalking away from Jack now and turning back to the glass to face the Doctor.

“I did.” She confessed, staring into his mask.

“You're going to tell me what you knew.”

“What? Wh-”

“ _Why_ does not matter. If I tell you to jump, you do not ask the purpose. Do it, or your hero here is going to start losing whole fingers.”

A heavy silence overtook them, all three seemed to be waiting for something. The two captives passed glances between each other. Reaper clicked the knife against the glass impatiently. Finally she looked back at him.

“You want to know about yourself?”

“Yes. Who I was to you, before the blast.”

Well aware that this gave away his condition to the two of them, Reaper reasoned it didn't matter once Talon was finished with them, neither of them would survive, and it wasn't as if Reaper had been honest when he promised he'd let one of them walk away. Lying was never above his pay grade, as it were, and he'd use any means to get whatever he wanted.

And here it was, a chance to finally get the answers that Talon refused to offer him.

 

~

 

It was years ago. Gabriel stood in a lineup with a group of peers around his age, all dressed in blue uniforms, medals donning their chests. Somewhere nearby, an official of some kind was giving a speech. He could see Jack just across from him. Their eyes met and he smiled. Ana was nearby too, her eyes proud, her stature impressive. It was an awards ceremony or... Perhaps a recognition of some kind.

“The world celebrates our heroes today. Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks to your efforts, hundreds of thousands of lives have been saved. The omnic crisis is over.” A man whose name escaped Gabriel's mind spoke loudly. A roar of applause went up around them.

“Well... We did it.” Jack said to him somewhat quietly as they began to file out, Gabe was running his thumb over the shiny medal that had been pinned on him, eyes down turned onto it. “Was it everything you expected?” Jack had asked him. Gabe looked back, snorting with laughter.

“Don't go and get all sappy on me, _Pendejo._ It's just a job.”

“Well- yeah. But it's _our_ job, Gabe. You wanted this, didn't you?”

Gabriel huffed with an amused smirk. Ana's arms suddenly laced themselves across the two Soldier's shoulders and she smiled, giving out a loud hoot and suddenly snatching their hats off of their heads. Both of the men startled in surprise and Gabe tried to reach after her as she darted forward into a celebratory crowd of people. Beaming widely at them, she threw their hats into the wind.

“Come on you two! The night's just getting started! You going to let the recruits have more fun than you!?” Then, she was off again, jumping to catch up with some others. Jack turned to face Gabriel and reached out, a hand resting on his shoulder, he smiled. Gabe could remember thinking just how... Perfect Jack had looked in that moment. Flawless jawline, flawless hair, gleaming, sparkling blue eyes. His breath momentarily left him and he smiled, blushing and looking down.

“Well here we are.” Jack said, extending his hand for an almost formal hand shake. “We've done it, Gabe. The crisis is over.” Then, as Gabriel shook his hand, Jack abruptly tugged and pulled him into an impromptu hug, leaving Gabe a little awkward in his grasp. The blond leaned in to Gabe's ear.

“Henrique would be proud of you right now.” This time the words were a lot quieter and Gabe felt his eyelids grow heavy and damp, he looked down, smile broadening across his lips.

“Gabe... Oh come on Gabe. Stop. Lighten up would you? You've got that... your eyes are doing that _thing_ again.” Jack teased after releasing him, he reached up with a thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “God, why do you have to be _so_ emotional!” He mused, causing Gabe to erupt with a small laugh as he shoved the man's hand away. The tears seemed to evaporate and soon they were chasing Ana down into the crowd, prepared to have a good time with good friends.

 

It was the first fond memory that Reaper had had of Jack thus far.

 

~

 

“The SEP was just a stepping stone to Overwatch,” Ziegler was saying. “Once you two had.. ah... Well.. Ah.” It was difficult for her to mention the end of the SEP for some reason, so she skipped ahead. “Well, You and Morrison helped to establish Overwatch. Overwatch helped us end the Omnic Crisis. You helped us recruit. Your military expertise made you a prime candidate for command but...”

“...But?”

“Well... Ah... After a while, the UN decided it would be best to have Morrison as the official face-claim of our organization.”

“What do you mean..?”

“She means,” Jack interrupted, growling. “That they chose _me_ to be strike commander, and not you. It should have been you, but that isn't what happened. That settled into your mind like a seed.” Reaper wheeled on Jack, his head tilting.

“Jack!” Ziegler barked, not wanting this to go badly.

“No, Angela. Stop coddling him. Tell him the goddamn truth.”

“And what _is_ the truth, according to you, Jack?” Reaper growled, confronting him now. Jack practically seethed.

“They made you head of our special ops division. You coined the term Blackwatch. But that...” His head tilted, craning slightly as his uninjured fingers gestured from where they were cuffed to the bar, making a small spinning gesture. “That seed that got planted in your head... That greed. Blackwatch wasn't enough for you. That jealousy. It drove you mad. You went crazy. You started taking in criminals and having your... your _underlings_ start doing shit that you know we'd never stand for. Kidnapping. Torturing. Entrapment, blackmail, you fuckin' name it, Reyes. If it was illegal, you did it in Blackwatch.” He snarled. “You turned your back on everything you cared about and everyone you helped, eventually becoming that monster- this monster you call yourself, Reaper.” He hissed, almost trembling with rage. “Then, when you just couldn't hack it anymore, you threw away everything we'd done together and blew Swiss HQ sky high like the fuckin' traitor you are. Killed a lot of good people. Nearly killed me. Killed yourself. Turned yourself into this... this fuckin' _thing_ that you are- YOU did this to yourself, Reaper!” He was yelling now. It was clear that the fall of Overwatch and the apparent collapse of their friendship had been traumatic on the old soldier.

“JACK! Stop. You know that isn't the truth!” Angela growled loudly, trying her binds, but Jack snapped back at her.

“Bullshit it isn't! It's the only thing so far that makes any goddamn sense! You just don't want to believe it. I didn't either, but wake up, Angela... Fuck's sake, LOOK AT HIM!” Jack roared, tearing his head back towards Reaper. “Look at what he's become. And you think- you _think_ he's in there? Wake up. There ain't anything left of him in there. Reyes is gone, Angela, he's been dead for decades.” He was staring directly into Reaper's mask now. Reaper had been stricken with a sudden silence. “There ain't anything left of him now besides this empty husk of a man. A demon.”

Reaper kicked him then, so hard that he felt ribs crack beneath the weight of his boot. Jack groaned and lost consciousness. Turning his head back towards Angela, they stared each other down for a long moment before Reaper ultimately stormed away, shutting and locking Jack's cell behind him. The sound of his boots could be heard echoing down the hall as he left. Acting on an impulse, Reaper left the facility entirely, stepping out into the cold morning.

Whatever sunlight there had been had faded as a heavy fog had taken over, soaking everything and everyone in a thick white cloud. All the better he supposed, he needed some fresh air and for no one to see him getting it. But, this far out of town, no one was going to come prodding at them yet.

 

In the chill, Reaper sat and let his mind dwell. How could he possibly believe everything that had been told to him? Was that the truth? Was that what Talon had been keeping from him this entire time? The company that he had devoted himself to had shafted him so that they could put some pretty-boy on the cover of their organization, and then, according to Jack, Gabriel had then lost his mind and betrayed everyone and everything? It made his hands tighten into fists. But, why did Reaper care if he had done those things? Wasn't it a just reward for what they had done to him? Didn't they deserve whatever ill had befallen them?

Talon must have been right. Overwatch was just as corrupt as they seemed to be. But... Somehow it didn't seem to connect. The memory he had had of Jack and Ana after the fall of the omnics had seemed so... clear. It had seemed so honest and sweet. Genuine, like most of the memories before his life in the military. Could he believe that he was doing those horrid things then? How was such a thing possible?

Mercy didn't seem to agree with the verdict, however, recalling the way she had snapped at Jack over the abrupt answer. She thought that he, Gabriel, was still in there? Still hidden somewhere within?

Reaper asked himself a question then that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to.

_Was he still in there?_

Reaper had not referred to himself as anyone but Reaper for as long as he had been with Talon, perhaps even prior. Yes, he knew Gabriel was his name. He'd known that since day one... But then what had changed? Did he think of himself as anything or anyone different? A different body perhaps, but the answer was the same.

No. No, Reaper was not someone else.

Reaper was Gabriel with a different name, nothing else. His mind was the same, his reasoning was... More or less the same, with perhaps a few less morals. Okay, a lot less morals, but after what had become of him, after what it seemed Overwatch had helped do to him, it seemed reasonable that he might snap, that he might have turned on people.

It was true that Reaper enjoyed his job. Killing had always given him a sense of power, and with Reaper, the abilities that defined him, death was a way of life. Death was his means of survival. Without it, he would wither away into nothing. Was it wrong then, for him to kill just to stay alive? Would it be more noble, more heroic to let himself die instead?

Would anyone be willing to do that to themselves?

Could he believe truly that he had done this to himself?

 

A heavy weight settled upon him and for a moment, Reaper reached up, removing his mask. He glanced at it vaguely before setting it aside and pulling away his gauntlets as well, enjoying the fresh touch of air, however cold, against his flesh. This was who he was now. He had become this creature by who knew what means. Overwatch had turned their back on him, and now, all of his old friends only saw him for the wretch he had become. Talon had saved him from that and given him purpose, fed him properly and given him a home. Widow did not seem as put off by him as Jack had moments earlier. Should he even worry about who he was before? Did that matter now, in the grand scheme of things? No. Suddenly, Widow's sentiment about her own past echoed in his head. Talon was her home now, and it should have been Gabriel's too.

His hands were pale, his fingertips had become sharply pointed black daggers once more, forcing him to reach up with a knuckle to rub slightly at his eyes, suddenly aware of how weary he was. Not sleeping for so long tended to do that to a person. Despite what he was, he still needed sleep. His company wasn't going anywhere soon. Reaper replaced his gauntlets and mask and wordlessly wraithed back inside the building. This time he did not reveal himself to them, retiring instead to an old, dusty room that might have once been a work break room. There were couches and a table and a counter. Despite his disgust of the dirt and grime, he collapsed on his side on one of the sofas and seconds later fell into one of the deeper sleeps he's had in months.

 

Reaper is woken unexpectedly, but not in a harsh or painful way. For the first time, he awakes not by a nightmare or some recurring memory, but a touch. At first, the touch is gentle, calming, but then, all at once, it's entirely too real. Something, or rather, _someone_ is touching his face. Someone's tugging at the edges of his mask, fingernails grazing over his pale flesh. Seconds before they can pull the mask away, the wraith growls in fury, reaches up a taloned hand to snatch onto the offending wrist, and a shotgun materializes into his other hand. Already, an inhuman, bestial growl pulls its way out of his chest like distant thunder echoing through a canyon.

It's then that he notices the tattoo.

 _“Oh la la, enjoying your beauty sleep were you?”_ The thickly accented french tone practically pains his ears. Widow is standing there, her hand still trapped by his grasp on her wrist. Her skin is cold, as usual, and her sniper rifle stands propped up in her free arm. She's grinning madly at him, as though she's just earned some kind of award for waking him.

Reaper snarls in pure rage. “ _What are you doing here, how did you find me!?”_ He roars, talons tightening on her wrist. She tugs, and finally he releases her, but he's on his feet now, glaring down at her. Once again, it looks as though the two Talon agents are about to kill each other.

“Calm down, _mon Cher_.” She hisses sarcastically, idly sliding her rifle onto her back and using her now freed hand to soothe the wrist. “Did you honestly think that your little... attack, as it were, would go unnoticed? All of Overwatch was there, and the media is saying you killed six people, injured twenty others, not including the people who died in the... ah.. Fire.” She snorts, as if she's judging his method. His eyes narrow at her beneath the mask and his hands tighten into fists. Widow looks up from her wrist and to him.

“How did you get here overnight?” Reaper growled, but Widow was laughing before he even finished the last word. Her free hand even reached up to lightly cover her lips as she struggled not to devolve into more loud, unladylike laughter.

“Oh- oh,” she half panted, smirking, “ _You think we got here overnight._ How rich. It's been two days, Reaper.”

 

For a moment, Reaper struggled to comprehend the meaning of those words. Two days? He'd been sleeping for _two days?_ That meant that his prisoners... His head twitched towards the doorway and Widow stepped in the way of his stare, interrupting it with her gilded eyes.

“Don't worry. They're still here. I haven't touched them.”

“Talon?” he seethed.

“Not here. Not for now. They will be here in a few days.”

“ _You're here,_ they must be close by.”

“I came with Sombra.” She waved a hand almost exhaustively and began to turn away from him, but stopped, glancing back at the sofa he'd worn a small dent into over the past couple days. “ _How filthy.”_ She mocked with a twitch of a smirk.

“You tried to take off my mask, why?”

“You looked dead.”

“But-”

“Don't _fault_ me, Reaper. Look at yourself.” She said, stalking out of the room. He did, and what he could see of his skin was especially pale. Healing from the injuries and expending so much to get Ziegler and Morrison here had worn him down to almost nothing. They were headed back towards the containment chambers where the two captives were held as she spoke.

“You seem so... Disappointed to see me, Reaper. Did you think you could elude Talon forever? What even were you doing- ah. No. Don't tell me. Let me guess.” She wheeled on him. She mocked his tone and shot him a look. “ _Looking for real answers?_ ” He glared at her and seethed a plume of black smoke beneath his mask. “Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked at last, turning back to continue on.

“Yes.” he growled at last, abruptly changing the topic. “Where's your tactical gear?” He'd only seen the tattoo maybe once or twice before, but never in the field like this. She wore a small, desaturated blue hoodie, a pair of casual, almost fashionable leather pants, but as usual, she wore the highest heels he had ever seen, pointed and black as well, reaching half way up her calf over the pants she wore. Around her hips, a few belts were strapped carrying various supplies and ammo, and across her back, a sling for her rifle, which still hung suspended there, a loving partner that would never abandon her, more loyal than most of the men she was sure she'd once known.

“I knew it would be easier to find you if I moved like you did. It was very... inspiring. Talon has a way of drawing attention, and you know how they work. I knew that if I was going to get close to you, I would have to be unexpected.”

“You wanted to get close to me?” he rasped. She shot him a small look.

“ _Don't flatter yourself._ Talon still sent me. They weren't about to let one of their assets out of their sight. They know where we are.”

“So what _now_? You here to _collect me_ like some kind of prize, take me _home?_ ” he sounded like he'd been betrayed somehow. She laughed and shook her head.

“Hardly. Since you've been getting information, I thought I would... let you continue. But, I am not leaving here until we're done.”

“It was my plan to hand them over to Talon anyway. I do not care what happens to them once I have what I want.” he confesses. “I do not need you here.”

“Oh, no, you don't, but someone has to keep an eye on you. We can't afford for you to go pulling another little stunt like you did before.”

“I'm merely astounded it took you all as long to find me as it did. I wasn't exactly subtle about my attacks. Where's Sombra now? How is it that she didn't spot me leaving the base immediately?”

Widowmaker shrugged. “I don't know. Perhaps she was sleeping when you left? She's still more human than either one of us, don't you think? After you were gone, we had no way of knowing where to start looking for you. She searched for days, but found nothing. You must have covered your tracks decently enough. Anyway. You have work to do, don't you?” She asked as they stepped into the room where the two are kept. Jack is unconscious, sleeping, his breathing suggesting that the two days of rest has been enough to start mending his fractured ribs. Ziegler stirs almost at once at the sound of Widow's heels echoing across the hollow, abandoned factory. The sniper took a seat on the same crates Reaper had made use of two days prior. She almost seemed to lounge, and as Reaper made his way into Ziegler's chamber, the two women's eyes met. Widow shot her a wide smile, fake and horrifying in its own way.

_“Oh, don't mind me, ma chérie. I'm just here to watch. I hope you don't mind a bit of voyeurism.”_

This of course made Ziegler cringe and begin to tremble. Reaper's heavy boots thudded towards her, waking up Jack in the process. Reaper knelt in front of her, only a foot or so away from her face. Beneath his mask, Ziegler could almost feel him smiling.

The smile confirmed itself in his tone.

“ _Had a nice break, did you? I'm afraid it's time to get back to work.”_

 

Reaper was able to pull a little more information from her that day. Things that would matter to Talon, but that hardly mattered to him at all. They didn't answer the questions he still had that she hadn't answered. These questions were not ones he wanted to ask with Widow lurking around, but as the day wore on, he began to realize he might not have a choice. It was true that she wasn't going anywhere. She'd hardly even moved the entire time she was there, idly sipping on a stolen flask of whatever drink she kept in her room back at HQ. Reaper could only imagine it was some kind of red wine, not that he had any real clue.

Ultimately, Mercy revealed two more locations of working Overwatch hubs, Ontario, Canada, and Port Augusta, a harbor town on the southern edge of Australia. That surprised him some, considering that Australia had seen some of the worst fallout and casualties from the Omnic Crisis. It was a junker's paradise now, hardly a solid location for a new functioning Overwatch base. But then, perhaps that was why they'd put it there; who was going to go looking for it in such a place like that?

At the end of the day, Reaper retired again. His captives were starting to grow lethargic and dehydrated, so Widow, despite her strong desire to linger around, left to find proper food and water for them. Reaper had all but demanded that she go, given than out of the two of them, she was the _most_ normal looking.

With cover up makeup, her hood pulled up over her head and a pair of large, stylish black shades, she headed out, more or less inconspicuous. How exactly she got them to eat without killing her, he didn't know, because he was already asleep by the time she returned.

 

~

Tonight's dream was different, however. Whatever relief he might have found in staying awake could not reach him here. Where as most of his dreams were fusions of fears and lost memories, this one was almost made abstract by its purity. There were no demons lurking in this dream, no haunting words, no death, no suicide, no pain.

That should have been his first clue that this one was special somehow, but yet it didn't wake him as it might have otherwise. There was something calm, something quiet about this one. Reaper failed to realize he was dreaming at all.

“Her name was Nia.” Gabriel was saying, his shoulder giving a half shrug. Dressed in black SEP fatigues, he sat on the edge of a catwalk, his feet, clothed in heavy combat boots, dangling over the side. In one arm, he carried a heavy rifle. The other was perched against the horizontal bars that served as a railing and kept he and Jack safe from going over the side. It was midnight, and the chill of the late-autumn air kissed at their exposed faces and hands. Both wore long sleeve, fitting shirts beneath their fatigues with high, black turtlenecks that protected their skin, keeping them warm. There were clouds overhead that threatened the with rain, however. These clothes wouldn't do much for that besides keep it away from their chests.

“Yeah? What was her deal?” A gruff, familiar Jack said next to him. He was sitting just beside Gabriel, his bright blue eyes distant on the far horizon. His hair was slightly tousled from the day. A training match right before an eight-hour night guard duty hardly left anyone any time for beautifying; or sleep for that matter, but at least tonight Gabe had been posted with him, and not one of the other chauvinistic jocks in their squad. They'd become close friends over their time in SEP, though they had started as bitter rivals, each trying to outdo the other. Ultimately, they had found themselves with a lot of similarities, and during the mock training missions, learned slowly that they had each other's backs, though it was Gabriel had taken the title of team captain.

Now here Gabe was, subtly pouring out his heart over a girl he had lost years ago.

It felt pathetic, but Jack was understanding, as usual.

“No deal. She was a good woman. Rational, I guess.” Gabriel said, looking down and fishing into his fatigues for a cigarette and a lighter. Pinching the smoke between his lips, he lit it up with a flicker of orange light and offered the pack to Jack. Lightly, the blond shook his head. Gabe stashed both away.

“So what happened, then?” Jack asked. Gabe could feel a breeze brush at his cheeks, chilling them as he recalled what had become of Nia Sanchez.

“She was doing her residency at a Hospital about an hour away from me. I was trying to finish up my degree. She wanted to be a nurse. Help kids. That sort of thing... Well after... After Henrique, I guess I wasn't the same. I dropped out of school and started making arrangements to join the Army.”

“Eh? Not Marines? Not Special Ops?” Jack pried. Gabriel laughed.

“Nawh. I was never quite cut out for that. I was a good student, but I knew exactly nothing about fighting or combat or anything like that. Well the army wasn't picky, not with the onset of the Omnic's rebellion, as it were. No one knew it was going to lead us into the shit-show we're in now. So they were hungry. They took whoever they could get.

Well. Nia didn't want that for me. She was afraid. She said she didn't like what my grief was turning me into, and that-”

“ _Turning you into?_ You wanted revenge. You wanted justice for your brother. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“I... yeah but.. I mean. _No_ , Jack. Sometimes I can be really dark. Sometimes I just have these thoughts... You don't know. You've never seen it.” He was looking at Jack now, exhaling a puff of smoke quietly into the night.

Jack looked back at him. “We all got those thoughts. Where it feels like everything sucks and the world is just broken. You feel like you want to just kill everyone, kill everything.” The blond looked away, shrugging. “It's just the way we think. Everyone's got different coping mechanisms, Gabe... You're too hard on yourself. You should have applied to the Marines.”

For a long moment, Gabe was quiet, looking at the side of Jack's face, the profile of his strong jaw and his brow, perfect nose. Gorgeous poster child, this one. He looked back to the horizon again, finishing his cigarette and putting it out on the metal scaffolding beside them.

“Anyway. She said that the way I was going with my life wasn't what she envisioned for her own. Said that it wasn't going to work out and that she couldn't support me if I kept going the way I was. So she came and collected her stuff from my apartment and then I never saw her again.”

“Mmh. Did you figure she was the one?”

Gabe shifted his head, staring at Jack for a brief moment before he shrugged. “I mean... Doesn't anyone, kinda, who's in a long term relationship like that? Yeah, Jack. I wanted her to be the one. I wanted to get on with my life, get my career and settle down. But... The omnics. They took it from me, Jack. They took my brother. They pushed my mother to suicide. They broke my family.” he paused, feeling the words boil the blood in his veins. When he spoke again, his voice was harsh, an almost raspy growl as it hissed through his teeth.

“ _I'm not going to stop until there's nothing left of them. I'm going to break them into so many pieces that they wont even be useful spare parts afterwards._ ”

Jack had looked at him then, eyes tinged with concern, but ultimately he smiled and chuckled, reaching up his free hand to lightly clasp Gabe on the shoulder.

“Well you ain't doing it tonight, Reyes. Come on, lets go do our perimeter check.” He moved to stand and extended the hand to help Gabriel up. He took it and they moved off in relative quiet, only the sounds of their boots on the metal catwalk echoing into the darkness.

 

A long peal of thunder ricocheted across the skies then, lighting up everything in a brief flash of blue. Seconds later, Rain pummeled down across the SEP base, starting to soak the two soldiers and everything else around them. The sound of the storm and the static of rushing water on metal and stone enveloped them. Neither of them ran, but all the same they hastened towards a part of the perimeter with an overhang that might shield them, but both of them were drenched by now. As they stopped, Jack was looking out into the rain, but Gabe's eyes were on the man himself.

“Did you mean that?” Gabriel asked suddenly.

“Mean what?”

“That I should have joined the Marines.”

“Yeah, of course. Why not?” Jack asked, looking at him and combing his fingers back through his own hair, trying to groom into a decent style, failing slightly.

“Why? I mean... Why would you say that?” Gabriel asked, setting down his rifle for a moment and slowly removing his gloves to ring them out. But, his chestnut eyes were primed on Jack for an answer.

“... Well I mean..” Jack floundered slightly. “I mean. Have you seen your numbers? You're one of the best recruits the SEP has.”

“But so are you, and most of our squad.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. You have strategy, you have determination, endurance. You're team captain. You've seen some shit, Gabe. More than a lot of the guys here. You could have made it in the Marines. You could have gotten out of this shit show. Hell... I mean. How many guys did the injections kill, Reyes? A lot. It could have been any one of us... It could have been you. At least then you'd have been-”

“So you're saying I should have applied to the Marines because it was _safer?_ ” Gabe smirked, poking fun at the blond, who now flushed.

“ _Shut up_. No- I mean. That's not what I mean.”

“Like hell it isn't, Jack.”

“You're just-”

“I'm _what-_ ”

“ _God_ , just shut up, Reyes.” Jack growled in an exasperated tone, then shocking his partner with an abrupt move. His hand latched onto Gabe's shoulder and pressed him back to the wall of the perimeter they had been walking with a thud. It was an aggressive motion and made Gabe second guess his teasing.

“Whoa man, I was just k-” Gabriel managed to bark out, but all at once his lips were covered. Jack had leaned in and closed the distance between them. It was a hot, sultry sort of kiss. It was not the first time they had flirted before, but it was definitely the first time Jack had done something so rash. Gabe was taken aback and felt his brows loft only to knit seconds later. Surprise shifted into comfort, then to need. Gabe felt his breath catch in his throat and his hands, awkwardly out to his sides, dropped his gloves. _Do something you idiot!_ Hastily, he kissed back, feeling his breath shudder out of him. All at once Jack drew back.

“Sorry.” he murmured, looking away, his cheeks were flushed. Gabriel's brows lofted again, a quiet settled between them for a few awkward seconds before he found himself speaking.

“What was that?” he asked, his hands feeling strange now and too empty, he dropped them back to the wall behind him, struggling not to look flustered. The rain and cold suddenly didn't matter even a little bit, washed away in the aggressive kiss they had shared, however short. Nor did the perimeter of the base or their duty to protect it. Only the fading feeling of Jack's soft lips pressed furiously against his own carried any meaning.

“I just... Nothing. Sorry. _I'm dumb._ ” Jack fumbled hilariously. Gabriel smirked a little widely, that charming grin that Jack couldn't refuse, making his knees weak.

 

 _“You want to do it again?”_ Gabe asked.

 

Jack's head snapped back at him, barely managing out the rasped, heated word _“yes”_ before they collided again. This time, they did not break apart. Hands fled the wall and gripped possessively onto Jack's hips, tugging him closer until their chests touched. Lips pressed feverishly against each other, then parted. Both men struggled to dominate the other in this unexpected moment of intimacy, but ultimately it was Jack who gave in, allowing Gabriel to shift the position on him, pinning the blond to the wall instead. Gabriel's head tilted and his tongue invaded the other's mouth, forcing a moan out of the blonde. The sound was faint but amazing, and made Gabriel chuckle into the kiss. Jack's powerful arms came around him and tugged at his lower back, drawing him closer so that he was impossibly wedged between the wall and Gabe's firm body, along with the growing tension between his thighs, the heat between them making Jack sweat nervously.

“W-We can't do this here.” the rough blond uttered.

“ _Like hell we can't._ ” Gabe breathed hotly into him. “The cameras on this side are broken, remember?” To which Jack flushed and muffled a laugh against Gabe's smoke-flavored lips. He wasn't wrong, it was the whole reason they had to patrol over on this side of the base in the first place. Their kiss continued, still drenched in soaking rain, chilling them to their bones, not that they could feel the cold anymore, or much of anything besides one another. Jack felt hot, and grew vaguely thankful for the darkness they stood in, hiding his furious blush from Gabriel's conquering chestnut stare. But, before he could even begin to get comfortable with this new closeness, Gabe's hand had begun to roam downward, searching eagerly for the hem of Jack's shirt, tracing the top hem of his pants. _“Oh god...”_ Jack panted in an unsure tone, feeling his entire torso tense up beneath the dark man's dominant grasp, but he made no effort to stop his ravenous advances.

 

Suddenly a small stopwatch alarm started going off flashing bright green on Jack's wrist.

Their shift was over.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks so much for reading, and please let me know if you find any spelling errors and whatnot! All other comments are welcomed too of course!
> 
> OKAY so what is the raffle?  
> A lot of you seem to really like this story, and I really like telling it, so I've decided to do something special that will hopefully help the popularity of this story and provide something for my viewers as well!
> 
> I've decided to hold a raffle.  
> As some of you know, I'm primarily an artist.  
> Examples here: [Trishields on DeviantArt](http://trishields.deviantart.com/)  
> For this chapter I'd like to hold a raffle for one free sketch of one lucky reader's favorite part of the story!
> 
> Win the raffle, and you can choose ANY part of the story thus far that is your favorite, and I will draw it for you, and link it in a following chapter! The sketch will also be emailed to you as a personal gift!
> 
> To enter!  
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> • Repost/reblog or otherwise forward this story in a public fashion for others to see, then,  
> • Comment on THIS chapter with a link to that boost/link/forward/etc  
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> 
> You can reblog or forward in any format that publicly enables others to see it, such as on Tumblr or DeviantArt Journal, blog, etc.  
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> Bonus!:  
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> Raffle entries must be in by April 30th.  
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> See my comment in the comment section of this chapter for an example on what to reblog and how to comment!
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> UPDATE: Raffle has ended!


	6. Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Mild Gore  
> Prominent Widowreap for plot.

Reaper awoke in a cold sweat. It was rare that Reaper even did such a thing these days- sweat, that was. Something about the state of his skin made it difficult for him, and made him more susceptible to hot and cold, especially more so when he was starved, as he was now. Currently however, that was not the case. He hadn't felt this flushed in a _long_ time. The remnants of the dream lingered in his mind. He knew now beyond any certainty that this was no nightmare, no confused hallucination, but a very clear, very real memory.

He and Jack had kissed. Why? The way it had happened suggested that perhaps it was not the first time it had happened; or at least that it wasn't unexpected. Though, that it had happened in such a scenario... Out on the perimeter of an SEP base, drenched in rain water, bathed in tactical gear in a late fall chill...

Reminiscing about it made Reaper hot again and he growled at himself, shoving himself up and off of the sofa and wheeling around, preparing to head back out into the main area where Ziegler and Jack- no- _Morrison_ were being kept. He refused to let that name sink back into his head as casually as it had been there before. Hearing his own name on Jack's tongue was unsettling, but he would not permit himself the mistake of getting too casual again. _Morrison_ had done this to him, after all, and even if he hadn't? Here he still was, trying to kill Reaper. Whatever they were before no longer mattered.

...Though that did not stop Reaper from wondering what _exactly_ they had been to each other.

Widowmaker seemed to be eating up all his little gestures in a show of enjoyment as she watched him, unnoticed from across the room, sitting in the dark. Like any true spider, she lurked, observing and saying nothing, so Reaper did not even know she was there until he heard her laugh echo faintly across the small room.

His body tensed and he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of her voice. Her yellow eyes glared out at him from the darkness. Her smile, a barely perceptible curl on her lips in the shadow.

“ _What are you looking at?”_ He hissed. “Why aren't you out there, watching _them?_ ”

Widow smiled more and rose up off of her seat. Once more, the sound of her high heels clicked across the distance of concrete flooring until she stood before him.

“I was not sent here to watch _them,_ remember? I'm here to make sure that you don't try to run off again.” Her accent was thicker today; it always seemed a little stronger when she was in a good mood, though it bothered him considerably. That Widow was ever happy about anything was never a good sign, as far as he could tell.

“You couldn't stop me even if I wanted to.” He reminded tersely. The sniper's eyes narrowed at him, though she knew she couldn't argue. It was hard to cage a ghost, that much was true.

“All the same. They're sleeping and are boring. You're not.”

“ _Flattered I'm sure.”_ He growled, turning away and stalking down the hall, this time he was looking for something else. These facilities often had larger rooms with moderate living quarters, specifically made for engineers or managers who seldom had the chance or time to go home. There would be a shower in one of them, he was sure, something to help him wash away the sweat from his dream... But then, Widow was following him.

“What were you dreaming about?” She asked abruptly. He did not even bother to reply. Her pace quickened and she cut him off, staring up at him, her left hand coming out to touch the wall, barring his path. “Where are you going? The prisoners are _that_ way.”

“I _know_ where they are.” The rebuke was cold and unfriendly. She was wearing on his last nerves and she knew it.

“Reaper.” She breathed coldly. “ _The hell_ is going on with you? Before, I could barely get you to shut up, and now, you tell me nothing.”

“ _Looks like our roles have reversed themselves._ ” He shot back shortly, then brushed past her, shoving her arm out of the way with a taloned hand. She seemed offended, pausing in the hallway as he moved on. It occurred to him then that even if he found such a room, even if he _found_ a shower, this place had been empty for decades. There was no electricity here, no hard lights, and sure as hell no running water, and hot water was simply out of the question. Frankly it was astounding the building was even still here, and that someone hadn't purchased the lot, demolished it and built over it. He stopped in his tracks and released an exasperated sigh, eyes closing beneath his mask. Widow was quiet, but she still watched him from where she stood some feet away. Reluctantly, Reaper turned back, eyes locking on her. Somehow, he could tell that she was hurt, even though she shouldn't have been. Exhaling heavily, he sulks back in her direction, but only because he has to to get to the prisoners, and strides past her.

“Stop looking at me like that. It isn't like you.” He uttered, and as he did, she stared at him and quietly replied.

“As if you would know the first thing about me.”

This small statement sets him off, and in the dark of the hallway, he stops again, wheeling around to face her. He feels his hands form into fists, but she does not turn away.

“ _Why_ do you do this, Widow? Hm?” He growled, facing her now. “You _watch_ me while I sleep. You _follow_ where I go. You ask about _me,_ you send me _fodder_ to consume. You _worry_ about me in a way you _shouldn't_. Why? What are we to each other? Every attempt I have made to _aid_ you has somehow been taken for granted or turned against me, or outright _ignored._ Now, when I leave to aid myself, I cannot seem to get rid of you. So you show up here and...” His words trailed off, fuming. She stood there quiet and still for a long moment, watching him.

“Is that what you think?” She said finally, her head tilting. “That I have taken your aid for granted?”

“Yes.” He balked in an instant.

“Well that isn't it.” She snapped back quickly, her mind somehow screaming at her. Something about this felt wrong. Talon had told her to keep an eye on him, not to let him out of her sight, and most importantly, to bring him back to base. Reaper didn't know about the tranquilizer shots and bullets she had packed into her ammo kit. Sure, they weren't anything special, but she rarely used them. They'd do the job to put him down for a while if she really needed to, but in the back of her mind she knew she was here for another reason too. A reason Talon hadn't decided. Reaper was her only friend. He had saved her at least twice now, and that was not something so easily ignored. She had tried to tell him before, but he hadn't wanted to listen to her then. Now here he was, staring her in the face, demanding an answer. Did she really have one? Her lips pressed into a thin line, fingers tightening somewhat into her palms. “Why did _you_ save me?” she asked finally, knowing the answer he'd give was the one he wanted in return. He replied quickly.

“You were a powerful asset to Talon. I have done many of my missions with you before. You were going to die, and then I would have had to all of the rest of my missions alone. Talon would have been outraged.”

“No. No, Reaper,” She cut him off then. “Sombra showed me the footage of the last time. I know that Talon commanded you to leave me. You didn't. You chose to save me. That's why I'm still here. That's _why_ I am watching you. If you leave Talon, Overwatch _will_ kill you. You are not strong enough to take them all on yourself. I know you want revenge. I know... what it is you know now. I have always known what you were to them, more or less. Talon told me from the very beginning when we first acquired you. Yet.... Here you are.” She motioned the building. “You, starving, outraged, craving vengeance, have managed to capture not one but _two_ of their members and have successfully drawn useful information out of them. You've done so single-handedly, without Talon, without Sombra's devices, without me... That's impressive.” She confesses finally. “And I'm here to make sure that we don't lose that. I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed, and bring you _home,_ Reyes.” She finished finally. Reaper was taken aback and stunned into silence.

Hearing his very real name off of her lips, her confession over so much feeling, and also, the fact that she had known who he was and, more importantly, who he had been to Overwatch all along- that was unexpectedly jarring. Why hadn't she told him? Part of him wanted to be outraged, and part of him _was_ , but he could not bring himself to lose control on her as he might have on the prisoners in the glass observation cells at the end of the hallway..

“We take care of each other in our own way, don't we?” She asked finally, trying to pry some kind of response from the stoic pillar that he had become, unmoving, and quiet. What she said was true enough. They had each looked out for one another, and not always because Talon had commanded them to, despite how much they argued.

“Yes.” he growled back finally, brows knitting beneath the mask, but his tone was subdued.

“So why don't you tell me what it was that upset you so much in your dream, and why don't you tell me whatever the hell it is you're looking for in these... Abandoned halls. Maybe I can help.” She pressed finally. The offer was unexpected and Reaper stirred. Her complimenting him in such a way reminded him of the memory with Jack and he felt a plume of black pollution radiate off of him almost like a blush. This was certainly _not_ going to be going that way. He turned away, not yet comfortable telling her about the dream, if he ever would be was anyone's guess.

“I was looking for a shower.” He replied a bit more gently.

“Well you're not going to find one here. Not in this building. Why? Did the sofa _disgust_ you?” She half teased, but her humor was lost on him. He looked at her, head tilting. When he was as starving as this, everything hurt. The pain of his decomposing flesh and the way it grew back was a constant thing, a dull, aching throb he had gotten used to. Few to none knew about this pain. A shower would help, the hotter the better.

“ _Perhaps I just want to be clean.”_ He remarked, watching her tilt her head at him with a sigh.

“Fine. Don't tell me.” She was stalking away now, but as they entered into the main area of the factory, not far from where his prisoners were, she was headed instead towards one of the doors to the outside. His brows lofted slightly.

“Where are you going?” He asked abruptly.

“Does it matter? This is what you wanted.”

“You _said...”_ That she was there to keep an eye on him, but her hand cut off his words as a few fingers shoo'd at him like he was a pest, dismissing him.

“You're not going anywhere. I know this. Go about your business, Reaper.” Then, she stepped out and was gone, a rush of cold air proving that it was night time again, nearly dawn. The door shut with an audible metallic clang that woke both of cell members in an adjacent hall. Sighing, Reaper stalked over to them, assessed what Widow had fetched for them to eat, and made a point of doing the task himself. It was barely more than nutrient bread. Not the most flavorful stuff, similar to what they'd fed Ziegler back at their now-destroyed Talon hub. Hardly the breakfast of champions. By the time he entered her cell, she was wide awake and staring up at him. Not one to be an especially nurturing sort of man, he approached Ziegler with a few dry, cracked pieces.

“Open, or you don't eat at all.” He uttered, and when she did, he pushed a few pieces into her mouth, forcing her to chew them before he pushed in another and left her to the mess of it. Then, he entered into Morrison's cell. To no surprise, Morrison refused to eat like the hard headed moron he was. Seeing the man's face, Reaper's mind fled back to the memory, once more haunted by it. Still, seeing the seething look, hearing the rage in the man's voice was sharper now than it had been before. If there had been even a single doubt before as to the memory's validity, there was none now. Jack looked at him like a traitor, not only to Overwatch, but to Jack himself. It was personal between them, something that Reaper hadn't understood until now. Too exhausted to try with the man, Reaper left the chunks of nutri-bread on the floor and paced out of the room, leaving them, well aware that there was no way Morrison could reach them if he tried, a cruel taunt to further wear on his captive's nerves. He was in no mindset to interrogate them just now, and after the emotional rollercoaster that the morning had been, all Reaper wanted was to find a quiet, dark place to sit and think.

 

Widow found him a few hours later, sitting out on an abandoned balcony, hood drawn in the corner of two perpendicular walls. The clouds overhead promised even more snow, though if he was cold, he didn't show it. The sniper might have missed him entirely if it hadn't been for the red gleam peaking out between the gaps of his kneecaps' armor. As her heels stopped nearby, he looked up at her. Neither of them said anything to one another, seeming to size the other up as they stared. Her eyes narrowed finally and her lips pursed before she turned back towards the door. “Come with me.” She said at last. Though Reaper was tempted to defy her purely for the satisfaction that came with being rebellious, something in her tone suggested he should. Pushing himself up from his seated position, he moved along behind her, the door shutting and locking behind him with a dull click, leaving them in blackness once more. The hallway was dark, but they were both relatively accustomed to the shadows, and found their way easily enough. Then, she diverged, striding away down a corridor that he'd not yet been down, leading them away from all of the main chambers.

Where he had failed to find any suitable living chambers, she hadn't. Heading into a room situated with a bed and a couch, a small mini-bar and a closet without doors, the Widow moved away to the far wall where a device had been fastened. A small, temporary source of light, obviously one of Sombra's toys. It emitted a quiet hum, and in his suspicion, Reaper turned his head to gawk at her, then the room. It reminded him of an old, seedy motel room. Not made for living in, at least not more than a few days at a time. The walls were a dark grey, the bed old and unused, and a thin layer of dust covered almost everything. The device on the wall pulsed quietly, giving off a dim yellow light and a small, flashing red indicator.

“Come on.” Widow said, moving away into an attached room through a door. As he followed, he realized it was a restroom. This had at been cleaned up, at least moderately. A rag had been taken to the mirror over the sink, and the basin and tub had themselves been scrubbed. Another device, this one far different from the other, was latched onto the wall like some kind of arachnid, pulsing magenta, like most of Sombra's devices. It was providing power to the entire restroom, even so much as convincing the in-wall water heater to kick in, and the lights to function normally. Widow had flicked them on on her way in, a single unbroken light bulb offered a golden cast of light to the room.

“It won't last forever. A few hours maybe.” Widow said, her gilded look twisting back to him. He stared at her then both in question and wonder. Pause stilled within him, along with all of the rage that so often stirred in his chest. Understanding of what he was seeing latched onto him firmly. Had she done all of this? For him? Disregarding his look, she flicked her head towards the shower, half shrugging. “Go on then.”

Reaper was stricken with silence. Though he was sure someone had been kind to him in his life before, he couldn't remember anyone doing anything like this. It was still a dingy room in an abandoned factory, but it was something. A small, minor comfort that he wouldn't forget. Widow stepped out of the room then, but the door was left somewhat ajar, and he heard her steps stop just outside. Not about to waste the gift, he set about undoing his gauntlets and his mask. Both were set aside. Outside of the room, Widow could hear him undressing. Then, the sound of the tub started, and not long after, a small haze of steam began to waft from the gap in the door, along with the faint black smoke that trailed the shade. Despite her resolve, Widow leaned against the wall, near to the door, curiosity forcing her to peek. A shoulder nudged the door open just a little further and she saw him there. His clothing was all set aside, folded where it could be, and the man himself reclined in the tub, almost too big for it, causing the water nearly to overflow. Her eyes widened as she took him in.

No where near as healthy as she had seen him before, Reaper's skin was as pale as paper, all except for the ends of his hands and feet. From hands to above his wrist and from toe to above his ankle, the skin was pitch, as if it had been dipped in charcoal dust. His fingertips seemed filed into harsh, triangular sharp tips, making it impossible to know where the skin stopped and the claw began. His toes had a similar, if smaller property to them. Over the whole of his body, he was a living testament to all the horrors that a body could endure. Criss-crossed and poked with every type of scar imaginable, there was barely a span of a few inches of him that didn't have some kind of story to tell by the wound it seemed to have healed over.

But what struck her the most above this stark change in his contrast and the scars he bore was his face, the way his cheeks had become gaunt, the way his lips sat less full, barely hiding a mouth full of predatory, sharp teeth. His canines were thicker and grown in, both on top and bottom, almost like fangs, but too thick to be the narrow, appealing daggers that legendary vampire tales told of. No, she thought, looking at them, they reminded her more of the fangs of a tiger. His hair was mildly patchy atop his head, along with his goatee, ghosted through with grey and white color at his temples and edges. The rest of his body seemed to bear no hair at all, as if it had abandoned him.

As much as he was hideous, she could not help but find herself transfixed, it was as if she was staring at a _perfect_ monster, the epitome of terror, somehow bound up into a form that barely resembled human kind. Smoke drifted up and off of him in translucent waves, obscuring the details of his form now and then. But, what it could not hide was the sudden way one of his arms shifted, but, but when it shifted, the flesh did not. A limb made entirely of shadowed mist seemed to reach out of him and dangle over the edge of the tub, its claws tracing the floor, dripping vaporous steam around it and through it... A thing both corporeal and not. Another, also shadowed, reached up to touch along his face, soothing pain out of his jaw and eyes. All the while, the two other, more... _normal_ arms remained draped around the back of the tub, giving him a horrifying grand total of four. As she stared, she could see faint red lines where his veins dared to near the surface of his skin. The flesh around his eyes was darker, too, almost black, as were the top of his ears.

It was then that she learned the color of his eyes, as his ghostly right hand came away from his face, he looked over towards the door, and noticed her standing there. Indeed, she was standing there now. At some point, she had abandoned her peek from the doorway and stepped into the room entirely to stare at him in all of his nudity. Her left hand was up, mildly covering her lips in seeming concern. The look of shock was clear on her face. She met his gaze, black pupils haloed by a thin ring of bright, glowing red. Gone now was the beautiful chestnut brown with red flecks she'd seen before. It was entirely consumed now by blackness and that thin line of red. Even the whites of his eyes had disappeared entirely, ensnared by that abyssal ebony hue. He did not move, but spoke, eyes narrowing at her.

_“No privacy here either, then?”_ He growled out, smoke drifting out of his lips, between those wicked teeth with every word. But, the man made no effort to hide himself, knowing it was pointless now. His words seemed to shake her from her daze, causing her to start slightly.

_“S-Sorry.”_ She spat suddenly. _“I... I never knew it was like this.”_

_“No one does.”_

But she did, now. There must have been a reason he covered himself away so much. Was this it? Was he afraid of others seeing what he was beneath it all?

“It's like this every time you starve?” She asked suddenly, connecting the dots with a certainty.

“Yes.” He murmured darkly, hands, all four of them, scooping water up and pulling it onto his chest, the spectral hands growing slightly more solid as he did this, though it was clear that some of the water escaped through them all the same, running down over his form and distributing liquid relief. He pressed his now emptied hands against his muscle, groaning out slightly, a hiss of pain escaping out of him as his face contorted. That inhuman growl revealed itself once more, but she interrupted it.

“It hurts... Doesn't it?”

“ _Every day, Widow.”_

“That is why you wanted this.”

_“Yes.”_

“The heat... It helps?”

The man's head slid back towards her, but she had stepped closer, even coming to the edge of the tub and crouching, eyes combing over him more thoroughly, both concerned and appraising. Her hands had latched onto the side of the tub, balancing herself. Again, he did not stop her, at least not until her stare ventured lower, daring for a look at his manhood, perhaps wondering if it was even still there. His left hand, solid and sharp, reached up suddenly to latch onto her jaw, forcing her to look back into his eyes. She looked momentarily apologetic.

“The heat helps.” He growled back, eyes narrowing. “ _Now if you please, I am not some circus freak for your gawking, Widow.”_ The snarl was real, as was the way his claws started to pluck into her flesh. She reached up to grasp onto his wrist, his skin as cold as ice.

“I can help you.” She said suddenly. “I can find you medicine or-”

“Don't you _think_ that if medicine existed that would help me, that I would be using it?”

This caused a long, harsh silence between them. Slowly, her hand fell away from his wrist and then his hand released her jaw. He looked away, a rumble still faintly churning in the back of his throat. Her eyes roamed back down over him. Despite his over all state, all of his muscle was intact. He wasn't _bad_ looking, just different. Inhuman.

She also happened to notice that every bit of his manhood had remained intact. Then, another wave of pain washed over Reaper and he twitched, hissing out his agony through his teeth, his eyes pinched shut and sunk further into the water, causing it to overflow at long last. Widow did not seem to mind the small rush of water that bathed the soles of her heels.

Sympathy.

It was the first time Widow had felt it in god knew how long. A sort of ache, one familiar to her.

As she stands there with him, something strange occurs to her.

 

~

 

It's winter, and there's a festival going on. Paris never looked quite as beautiful the rest of the year as it looked tonight. The Eiffel tower had been done up with lights, from head to toe, fireworks went off in the background, their triumphant boom echoing in her ears. Red, green, yellow, purple. So many colors, one could have almost gotten sick from it. She spun, then spun again. Swans all in a row, the lot of them with their feathers and masks, their ribbon-decorated legs couldn't feel the cold if they tried. The glitter of confetti scattered through the air, gleaming and shimmering like small gemstones. She took a bow. There were eleven other girls beside her, dancing along with her. In the crowd, she saw a man's face. He was smiling at her and clapped loudly, along with the rest of the onlooking spectators. Hoots went up loudly in cheer, music played from a nearby orchestra. The scent of sugar and sweet delights floated through the air, carried by the wind, the sound of children's laughter echoed all around them.

She broke away from her brethren, smiling and laughing with them. “Ah! Bonsoir, bonsoir.” Amelie says joyously to the others as they all break away. She approaches the man in the crowd, who suddenly takes her under his arm and pulls her against his side.

“You were beautiful, Amelie. As usual. Come on, let's go have some fun of our own, huh? The fireworks won't last forever.”

_“Ah, Gerard. You are such a charmer.”_ She teases him.

 

In the next moment, the vision changes, and she's standing face to face with his tombstone. She's on her knees in the snow, tears running down either blue-toned cheek, a rose resting over the mound. She can't understand how or why she feels this way, but she breaks down when she sees the tombstone, every fiber of her being feels like it wants to tear itself apart.

 

~

 

_'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all._

_Rather feel pain..._

 

Widow's breath grows short in her chest, causing her to pant. Suddenly she is reaching into the tub and her hand touches Reaper's chest. He looks back at her at once, confused and unsure. Their eyes meet again, and he seems to understand. The look in her eyes is unmistakable.

“ _I don't_ _want_ your _pity, Widowmaker._ ” The voice is harsh, venomous, and in a moment, he's reaching down as though to draw her hand away from him.

“No! No- wait...” She stammered, her breath still short. He pauses. “Let me help you.” She said, her voice had grown quiet and almost timid then. Never, in as long as he had been around her, had he seen her this way before, let alone heard her so frail. She seems to be begging him.

“You can't.” he replied, but for the moment he leaves her hand there.

“No... I can.” She said finally, regaining some of her strength, he hand moves, smoothing over his scar-marked flesh, trailing down over his pectoral onto his abdominals. Beneath her touch, he goes taut, nervous and uncomfortable. It's painfully obvious that he's not used to being touched at all, much less like this.

Her hand tightens on his skin, working against the muscle, starting to massage him. She doesn't care that the water's overflowing, or that his black smoke has started to curl up and around her arm, drifting nearer to her. His scent is obvious, but it doesn't deter her. The smell of blood is a familiar one, and does not disgust her the way it might others. Faintly, Reaper utters a sound and his head falls back, resting against the edge of the tub, his eyes half closing. Widow catches both the sound and the expression, deducing that whatever she's doing seems to be helping him, if even a little bit. Her tongue wets her lip slightly and her hand continues, this time working upwards, over his his collarbone and onto the thick cords of his neck. As she does so, the man's eyes close entirely, she can feel him gulp beneath her touch. Fingers venture higher, until she reaches his jawline, where her touch suddenly grows softer. The tough massage from before is gone, and soon the Widow is tracing her touch across his cheek and then his nose, before dropping down onto his lips. Now, her curiosity has overwhelmed her, and instead of merely aiding him, she's exploring. As he exhales, she can feel his breath against her palm; its not cold like she expected, but warm, borrowed from the heat of the water he soaked himself in. His skin, too, is not as icy as before. This must be why he did it, she thought. She did the same, really, back in her own quarters. Whatever had been done to her to keep her alive, so Talon said, had made her heart beat much slower, and so her skin was perpetually colder.

“You do it for the warmth... It makes you feel... Alive again, doesn't it?” She asks gently, moving her hand down again. His eyes slip open and the word he utters is faint and almost defeated.

“Yes.”

_“So do I.”_ She confessed.

This time, his gaze levels on her and not on the ceiling, trying to read the expression on her face, but it's not one he's ever seen her make before, so he's left quiet. Could it be sadness? Awe? Confusion? Pity, as he suspected originally? Or was it...

Desire.

The sniper had especially soft fingers, more so than he expected from anyone who did what they did, but she knew where to apply her strength, and almost before he could stop her, her hand dared to venture lower as her eyes had before, tracing over his navel and then heading _even further_ south.

Reaper's breath caught in his chest, and suddenly one of his shadowed hands reached down and latched onto her wrist for a second time that day. The grasp was tough and solid, corporeal if only for a moment.

“Don't.” He gasped lightly, looking down slightly. Her eyes met his with confusion.

“You don't like it?” She asked suddenly, seeming like she almost might be offended.

Reaper fumbled, feeling his toes curl, the small claws on them scratching the side of the tub with an audible sort of screech. “It isn't that.” He explained finally, releasing her as she drew her hand back to the edge of the tub. Finally, he closed his eyes and moved to stand. The water fell off and around him, sinking down into the tub with all the new space he'd just made by moving. She could see every muscle ripple when he moved, and for a moment, she was sorely tempted to touch him again anyway. Reaching for a towel, Reaper abruptly covered his hips entirely, tying it in place and moving away from her, out into the room. She followed him belatedly.

“Is it me?” She asked in a cliché, mocking tone, head tilting as she leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. His head shook. “Is it Talon?” She pried. “Or the pain, or someone else or-”

“It isn't _any_ of those things, Widow. Come off it.” He rumbled back at her sharply, moving to the edge of the bed. She took this moment to see just how his extra arms were connected, discovering that they were barely connected at all. They seemed to shift from being connected directly below his normal arms and yet, sometimes being connected directly beneath his shoulder blades. Even now, they phased in and out of physicality, sometimes translucent and lacking any weight, and at others, solid black hands supported by nothing but black mist, never quite becoming entirely whole.

“What is it then?” She asked shortly as he turn and sat, facing her now.

“It's this body.” He rumbled back at her, his voice like a distant thunder. Finally, it seemed she would get to learn a little more about him beyond pure speculation. “When I'm starving, it's harder to hold myself together. When I'm starving or... or dying, I lose my body entirely. I can't keep myself like this. I can't keep myself solid.”

Which unfortunately meant he also couldn't _successfully_ have sex like this either. His body, she presumed, would end up being a lot like those two arms. Slowly, Widow nodded, then dipped her head at the extra appendages.

“And those?”

“Just... Part of me. They come and go when I want them.”

“I've never seen them before. You never use them.”

“No. They're just... smoke. Not _that_ useful. When I'm not solid, the darkness struggles for a form to take, so it constantly shifts in and out of shape. Arms are the easiest, I guess, so they're always there, because there's... excess. The smoke that cannot fit within me makes this... Makes these. My coat... the armor plates on the back... You ever wonder what it's for?”

Those metallic plates weren't merely armor for show? They weren't some kind of back-brace? They had a purpose? Her eyes widened marginally with surprise. Reaper continued. “They keep it in check, so that I can go on more or less solid, as long as possible... It helps.”

Widow nodded again, but she was quiet. Ultimately she turned away and stalked back into the bathroom, fetching his things. Steeling herself, she paced back to him and set them on the bed beside him, but he was looking at her now, still as confused as he had been at the very beginning. Then, she was leaving, her footsteps thudding towards the doorway.

“Widow.” He said finally, his voice deep. She stopped and looked back at him.

“What?” She asked, almost sounding... Angry.

Studying her from where he sat, he felt his hands tighten on his thighs.

“I don't know what this is. I don't know why you're doing this... But I know that Talon didn't tell you to.” Then he fell quiet, giving a pause in case she wanted to speak.

She didn't, so he continued, his voice barely audible, raspy.

 

_“But thank you.”_

 

Widow remained in the doorway for a moment before deciding once again to say nothing and move away. Her steps echoed down the hallway and faded into quiet until all he could hear was his own faint breathing.

 

After a while, he returned to the main area. Once again, Widow was no where to be found, but his captives remained firmly in their places in the cells. Both were looking exhausted, as was to be expected. There were bruises around both wrists and ankles, and Morrison was understandably bloody from what he'd been subjected to. Yet, even now, he looked as rebellious as ever, his brows knitted deeply, his frown evident, eyes fixed with a piercing, hateful focus. Reaper wasn't going to get anywhere with him, though torturing him seemed to do wonders on making Angela talk.

There was still information he wanted from her.

Technically, there was still information he wanted from Morrison, too, but that would have to wait, he supposed. Approaching the pair, his metal boots left their marks in the dust, among the evidence of the last few day's trodding, the dull thud of them stopping near the glass wall causing Ziegler to lift her head from its dreary hanging. Her blue eyes landed on his boots and then fled their way up to his mask, boring into the black pits. Despite her anger, her eyes did not hold the same sharpness to them that Jack's did. Reaper approached her cell after a brief glance around assured him that Widow was in fact no where to be seen. Did it matter to him if she heard these questions? No. Not as much as it might have before. Hell, perhaps she deserved to hear them.

“I have more questions.” He growled out at last, stern, stoic look peeling back towards her. “Are you going to give them up willingly, or do I have to start pulling his teeth?” He asked, head canting towards the Soldier in the adjacent cell. The doctor's eyes narrowed at him, but she looked at Jack. He shook his head, all the same. With an insolent huff, she twitched her attention back to the dark mercenary.

“I suppose that will depend what you want to know, won't it?”

Beneath his mask, he smirked and moved forward, unlocking her cell and letting himself in. He crouched before her, a few feet away, his elbows resting on his knees, talons lacing together between his thighs.

“I _know_ you have no desire to talk to me. I understand why. But... You have a strength in you. Not like his,” He said, nodding sideways at Morrison, “But strength all the same. You want to save someone. Something. You think that by keeping this information from me, you will instead cost their lives.” His wicked laugh rolled out of him, a malevolent chuckle that echoed off of the factory walls like the bell-toll of ancient gallows, haunting and unwelcome. “I wish that I could say you were wrong, but...” He had begun to massage his hands almost casually, like he was stretching them, getting ready to use them to some lethal end. “Well. I'm not here to save anyone's lives. I'm here to do a job. I'm sure you understand that. Surely you, of all people, understand that you can't save them all. Isn't that right? It's something you and I have in common, don't we? We're both quite good at watching the light leave people's eyes. The only difference is, you feel like a failure when it happens to you.” But these words seemed to strike Mercy harder than even he expected. Her eyes were already glassed over, as if something he'd spoken had struck a chord. Beneath his mask, his brows lofted and he made a faint tisking sound, touching his tongue to the top of his mouth a few times before he was interrupted from a rough voice nearby.

“Leave her be, you dead _wretch._ ” Morrison's voice was abrasive like sandpaper. Slowly, Reaper's attention turned back to the man, eyes narrowing.

“Boldly spoken for a man who continues to tell her not to talk. If it was up to you, you'd both be dead, wouldn't you? Can you honestly blame her for _trying_ to save one of your lives?” He asked. Morrison actually laughed at the Reaper's words.

_“Do you really expect us to believe that you'll set us free? Either of us? Do you think we haven't seen your widow-bitch stalking around? Talon's here. I've seen how Talon operates. We're not going anywhere, so anything we give you is just fodder to fill your pockets and sling at the rest of them.”_

Alas, Morrison wasn't wrong, and there was nothing Reaper could say to negate that. It was the truth. Morrison was a powerful enemy, and Ziegler was a powerful asset of Overwatch. Talon would never allow them to leave alive. Perhaps that was actually why Widow was here. Reaper said nothing, and looked back to Ziegler, who was glaring at him for some kind of confirmation of Morrison's words.

After a long moment, he half shrugged. Anything was worth getting the information he wanted, and if they were going to die, what did he care if they knew?

“I'm not here with Talon.” He confessed finally. “They found me, but they did not send me. I hunted you down myself. These questions are for me. I don't care if you die or not.”

“So you'd consider letting us live?” Ziegler said suddenly, questioning him. He smirked at her, not that it could be seen, but she could hear it in his voice as he threw her words back at her.

_“I suppose that depends what it is you have to say, doesn't it?”_

For a long moment, a silence settled between all three of them, the two captives looking between themselves, but Morrison looked skeptical.

“What do you want to know?” Ziegler asked suddenly, her voice lowered. Reaper came to a stand and leaned his back against the glass wall that divided their cells.

“Earlier, when I was interrogating you before... Months ago... You said something. You said my name, and said that I was _never like this._ You said it like you knew me. I knew then that you had known me before. I knew that you had known who I was and what I had been. I want to know how. I asked you before, but you didn't reply. What were you to me? A friend? _A lover?_ ” But as he spoke the words, both she and Jack tensed up immediately, looking uncomfortably between each other. “Answer me.” Reaper snapped venomously. She flinched and looked back at him.

“A friend... A- A coworker. You were part of Overwatch, Reaper. I was our medic. I tended you. Healed you. You confided in me. We were close.”

“ _You don't remember?_ ” Morrison asked finally from across the way, still in disbelief, despite that Reaper had shown indications of his amnesia a few times now. The shade's head twitched back that way.

“Perhaps I do, and perhaps I'm testing you for consistency, _sweetheart._ ” He threw that word in as a test, remembering his dream- his memory with Jack, just to throw the Soldier off of his trail, so to speak. Morrison's body went taut and tightened his jaw, teeth grating together, eyes narrowing, hands, though bloody, tightened into fists in his binds.

“You see, Angela... He's toying with us. He remembers.” The soldier hissed.

Reaper ignored him, going on. “And when I was interrogating you a few days ago, you two got into a fight. You-” He now pointed at Morrison, “Made some very... liberal accusations, but you...” Head turned back to Ziegler. “Defended me. You said that what he was saying about me wasn't true. That I lead Blackwatch. That I did _terrible_ things.” he mocked. Surely the things he did now were far worse. “Tell me what _you_ think the truth is, if you will?”

The doctor wet her lips with her tongue, glancing between the two men. Finally, she spoke. Jack rolled his eyes as she began.

“It is true that you lead Blackwatch. It is true that Blackwatch did terrible things, and that you helped them do it. There is undeniable evidence of everything that you did.”

“But you disagreed. Why?”

“Well-”

“ _This is pointless, Angela.”_ Morrison tried, but Reaper silenced him, raising a hand with a snarl.

“ _Speak again, and I will cut out your tongue._ ” He threatened.

She hesitated, but continued.

“There is... there is a thought. A theory. Many of us share the sentiment that you, and many of your company in Blackwatch, were not in control of yourselves. We believe that you were somehow manipulated into what you did...” She paused, looking down, her voice had cracked. At last, when her eyes lifted back to him, she struggled with her tears, her mind full of memories.

“I believe it, because I knew you. I knew how you were, and I know how you weren't. Those things you did, the things you do now: it isn't like you. It never has been. You were a strong man, Gabriel. You were a powerful fighter, determined and loyal. You loved your people. You loved us. You loved Overwatch and everything we stood for. You were there to make a difference in the world, to bring an end to all of the pain, the violence and the havoc... But in so doing, you lost yourself somehow. Increasingly, you were willing to do more and more to meet the high costs that might mean victory. More and more, it seemed to consume you. The rage, the envy. You became very two faced... You and Jack-”

“ _Don't you fucking dare, Angela._ ” Morrison snarled suddenly. But, Reaper was moving, unexpectedly producing the knife he'd been using to torture Morrison over the last few days. Vacating Ziegler's cell, he entered Jack's, but she screeched, kicking at her bindings.

“No!” She screamed.

Already however, Reaper was upon the soldier who looked up at him defiantly, not a shred of fear in his eyes, head tilted up as if inviting him.

“You ain't getting anything out of me.” Morrison snarled. “Especially not without a tongue.” A minor warning, but once again, Morrison was right. If he removed Jack's tongue, he couldn't very well interrogate him. That didn't matter so much to Reaper, because he knew Jack wasn't giving up anything else... But if he removed his tongue anyway, he would surely catch a lot of flack from Talon for it. They would want to try interrogating him too, naturally. Reaper seethed, leaning close, leering over Morrison as their faces grew near. Morrison could smell him, the ghoulish black smoke that drifted off of him soaking into his nostrils and lungs, but he did not flinch. The cold touch of the knife pressed against the underside of his jaw, the inhuman sounding rumble of Reaper's anger rattling into his skull.

“ _Then maybe I'll just remove one tooth at a time until you get the message._ ” The rogue threatened, tilting the blade's tip against the flesh, causing Jack to wince. A small slice was enough to make his blood run slowly down the length of the knife onto Reaper's talons. Ziegler tried again.

“WAIT!” She shouted. “Please! Wait. Reaper- _Gabriel,_ please!”

“ _STOP._ ” Reaper roared suddenly, pulling the blade away and whisking his way over to the glass between their chambers, reforming there, glaring at her. “ _Stop calling me that._ ”

“But it is your name! It's who you are! Gabriel Reyes. Six-foot-one, Male, American, Mexican Ethnicity. Brother to Rosa and Henrique, Son to Marla and Robert Reyes. Los Angeles resident until you joined the Army to avenge your brother. Ascended to the top of your squad, volunteered for SEP selection, ascended to team captain almost overnight, highest marks-” She was out of breath. He was staring at her now, in mild awe. She had memorized his file. “I know you, Reyes. I know everything there is to know about you. I know your blood type, your medical history, you university GPA. I know how you got that scar on your lower left side. I know who your friends were growing up. I know that your favorite hobby was playing the guitar, that you liked to ride bikes, listen to loud music, took your coffee almost exclusively black, I know that the beanie you wore almost every day of your service in Blackwatch belonged to your brother. I know that you blame every omnic in the world for the death of him and your mother. I know that you used to struggle with an intense psychological rage. I know that you used that personality to do what you needed to get done, to hide from the pain of everything that happened, Gabriel. I know _why_ Reaper exists...” She grew quiet for a moment, but he said nothing, staring at her. For a moment he felt like he hung on every word she spoke.

“But what I don't know...” She said finally, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Is how you, one of our brothers, our kin, our… family... Could betray us the way everyone says you did. I don't believe it. I refuse it. It is not like you. You would never, could never do that. Not to us...” Her eyes shifted to the soldier nearby, who watched quietly, blood still slightly leaking down his neck, but not in a threatening way. _“...Not to Jack.”_

After a long moment, he stepped away from the glass. Part of him felt like he wanted to combust. There was so much confusion, so much fury in his veins that he could have screamed. How could this be? How could he have been so much to these people, and then end up like this? There was no lie in her voice, in her eyes. He could tell just by looking at her that everything she'd said, she wholly believed.

That narrowed his questions only slightly, but one came to the forefront of his mind.

“Yet... You ambushed me. You set me up. You tried to kill me...” But... they hadn't. Every time Jack had had the opportunity to surprise him and shoot him, to kill him, he'd stopped. Every time, he'd given Reaper a means of knowing he was there.

 

“There was this idea that maybe you could be saved. If you could be recovered...” Ziegler started, looking at him. Everything was falling on Reaper now like heavy lead bricks. Uncertainty clouded his vision. His eyes dropped, along with the knife in his hand, clattering to the floor in a soft noise. They'd done all this...

 

_“To save you, Reyes.”_ Morrison growled at long last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Three Day's Grace - Pain
> 
> As usual, thanks so much for reading, please let me know if you find any spelling errors!
> 
> My art raffle relating to this story is STILL going on. Please read the notes at the bottom of chapter 5 for details! Raffle closes on April 30th!


	7. Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Explicit smut.  
> Widowreap for plot.

“...No.”

The word was a gasped whisper in the air, a cloud of blackness panting out of him with the single word he had uttered in sheer disbelief. Besides that, the air was still. Everything was as silent as a grave and no one dared to break it, as if somehow this moment was sacred. When at last he spoke again, his voice was sharp like shards of broken crystal.

“ _No!_ ” He snarled fiercely, vehement in his defiance of these words. “ _No, that isn't true!_ ” he continued, but he was backing away from the glass now, until his spine met the opposite wall, with Morrison on his right side and Ziegler directly before him, he stared at them in confused hatred. What kind of sick joke was this? His talons scratched against the transparent wall behind him, carving shallow grooves into it. In his mind, his thoughts spun and jumped hurdles like they were competing for gold medals. His breathing shuddered out of him, growing darker and shakier, clouding around his mask and his head, flooding off of his skin like steam off a boiling pond.

“YOU LIE!” He roared at last, losing his composure. Beneath the surface of his skin, he could feel himself coming apart. Somehow, despite that they were his captives, he felt like a cornered animal.

“It's no lie, Gabriel!” Ziegler urged, and for the first time in her entire confinement there, she came to her feet, as if showing that she was still capable, that she was still strong enough to stand somehow, and that it would give her words more potency.

Reaper nearly recoiled from her, his frame twitching as if wounded, despite that there was a wall between them, and he couldn't back up any further.

“It's no use, Angela, look at him!” Jack barked, growing heated and concerned, especially since he was now trapped in the same room with that metaphorically cornered animal. Reyes was likely to lash out in situations like this, even back in the day when he'd been... sane. Now? After what Talon had done to him, Jack had no doubts that this was an especially dangerous situation. Especially for him, who it seemed had the most of Reaper's anger. Still, the soldier's warnings fell on deaf ears to Mercy, who continued, feeling like she could make a breakthrough with him.

“Gabriel please! Let us go. Let us take you back with us. We can find a way, we can help you through this! You're not alone. We're here for you, we did all of this for you- Gabriel please!” She yelled pleadingly towards him, tears staining rivers on either cheek.

What uttered out of Reaper then was neither human nor beastly, but something in between, a howl of pure fury and angst. His body shifted, twisting and rising, ghosting and casting black smoke everywhere, but this time, there was no gunfire, no ear-splitting scream of the word “die” or anything there in. Nothing beyond that sound like a malevolent, localized hurricane. It permeated everything, every crack and crevice it could find, seeping into the lungs of Jack who was nearest to him. All at once, the smoke rushed towards the door of Jack's cell and Reaper was escaping through it.

His pollution expanded, covering the room, seeping into their chambers and dousing them in its abyssal black prison, choking out air and light. Their hair whipped in the swirling gust, their clothing rippled as if struggling to stay on their frames. Both winced against the torrent. Amidst the chaotic storm, a single sentence rained over them, both everywhere and nowhere at once, deafening them with its impossible volume.

**“NO. OVERWATCH DID THIS TO ME. YOU WILL PAY.”**

Somehow, despite the roar of wind and voice, Ziegler found the strength to reply.

 

“No! No Gabriel. Overwatch didn't do this to you...

I did this to you, Gabriel... Please. Forgive me. I'm so... I'm so sorry. I didn't know- none of us knew...” Her voice was cracked with raw emotion, tears streamed down her face, invisible in the darkness, but Reaper could taste them in his writhing mass of shadow. It carried on for what felt to her like ten minutes, but in reality, only a few seconds. Both captives struggled to breathe, surging against their bindings, coughing, curling against themselves and trying to shield themselves from what they expected to be an incoming attack.

 

All at once, everything stopped. Every particle in the air stopped in place as if time itself had frozen. Scraps of the wraith drifted through the space between all of them like shredded scraps of cloth or flakes of dried ink, barely moving, twisting, suspended and still. The sound had ceased its roar, and the wind made extinct, completely eradicated. Reaper's mask sat unoccupied in the middle of the floor just inside of Angela's cell. The black still hung over them like thick pitch-toned fog, the scent like blood and gunpowder and metal.

It was the sound of heavy, shuddered breathing that gave him away, followed by a heartbeat that as of yet had no solid location. The ebon haze above them began to shift. Sparks of red began to ignite through it like small cracks of lightning, instantaneous and small, drawing closer together. His form began to take shape just outside of the cage. He was hardly corporeal at all, a pool of black matter that slowly swirled and tightened until he had formed; a slow, wicked process that ended when the last of the cloud had vanished. His eyes, black and red, were fastened upon Angela, the haunting stare of a confused, pained predator.

“I'm sorry... Gabriel, please... Come with us. Let us help you.” Angela begged, barely able to regard him from beneath her bleary eyes, her voice so broken that it was scarcely there at all, but he heard every word she spoke.

He never quite took solid form, but that did not stop the sound of his boots as he turned and strode away from the hall. His walk became a run, and soon he was fleeing away from them, away from his emotion away from everything that caused so much pain.

 

His mask remained behind, forgotten on the concrete floor.

 

The smoke had gone with him, leaving the two captives in the dimly lit room alone. Jack's head lifted and he looked over to Angela, who now sagged slowly all the way back to the floor. Her sobs were only just loud enough for him to hear, and he agonized over them.

“You tried, Angela... That was all you could do... But it's as I said. He's gone. He's not the same man that he used to be... Talon's broken him, and there's no getting him back. This whole thing has been one dangerous mistake.”

“But it was worth the risk, wasn't it? If it was you instead, he would have died trying to get you back, and you know it.” She sobbed, but her words had a sharp edge to them, as did the look in her eyes as she glared at the ex-strike commander. “ _How dare you give up on him, Jack. You were everything to him, and you can't even bring yourself to tell him that.”_ Salt fled rivers down either cheek, her breathing shaky and hollow, betraying her intense anger.

“I wanted to believe he could be saved, Angela... I did. But you and I both know how he was before Switzerland. You and I both know that he was in a _real_ bad place, in his head.” He tried to reply, his baritone voice echoing in the abandoned chamber, his blue eyes fastened upon the doctor.

“But if it's true, Jack... If it's true that Talon was manipulating him, manipulating _them_ before Switzerland, then you _have_ to believe that he wasn't in control of himself! If we could have gotten him back, if we could have... I just needed a few more tests-”

“ _Tests.”_ Jack spat with detest. “Christ, Angela. Isn't he more than an experiment to you? Look at what's happened to him! He's been through so much. He deserves death now, for everything he's been through. He would _hate_ every part of what he's become. You have to know that, don't you? I came here to put him down, and you know that. That's the only reason I agreed to come along to this little shit-show. Because if _someone's_ going to bring him some _actual_ mercy, it's sure as hell going to be me. _Someone has to do it._ ” He said roughly, looking back the way Reaper had run. “ _If_ he even comes back.” But after his words, Angela could only stare at the white haired man, broken and saddened, her tears refreshed. Ultimately, her lips formed a thin line, a stern, forlorn look settled itself onto her features.

The two fell into quiet, two opposite sides of the same coin.

 

Hours later, it is the cool, collected gait of Widowmaker that stirs the two from their resting places. She stalks into the area just in front of their cages, glaring in at them, then noticing his mask on the floor in Ziegler's chamber, the claw marks on the right side of Jack's cell. Her eyes like yellow sapphires leveled upon them, then slowly twisted over towards Ziegler. Both stared at her, in her same attire as before, the casual hoodie, pants, utility belts, sniper rifle on her back. It wasn't the way they usually saw her, but something about her was intimidating all the same.

“Where is he?” she asked firmly, prowling close to the glass of the doctor's cage.

Ziegler shrugged, defeated. “I don't know.”

The answer was an honest one, and that made Widow bristle. Reaper never went anywhere without his mask. Slowly, she unlocked the cage and made her way inside. She leaned and picked it up off of the floor, the faint scrape it made against the floor alerting Jack to sit a bit more upright. Her motions were slow and calculated, almost casual, but that was what was horrifying about the Widow. Her eyes scanned over the mask before latching it onto her utility belt. Then, without warning, she brought her sniper rifle around and began to idly load a shot into it. Mercy felt her mouth go dry.

Widowmaker began to hum a tune.

It was vaguely accented, but the words rang true to the two there.

_“This life is filled with hurt  
When happiness doesn't work... “ _

Jack felt his stomach sink into the pit of his gut, his eyes widening. He gulped hard. Reyes always used to sing that song. Widow had suddenly reached down, wrapping her fingers around Ziegler's lower jaw and squeezing. The barrel of her rifle was brought forward, and despite how the white-haired woman struggled and began to whimper in terror, eventually her mouth was pried open, and the taste of cold metal touched her tongue. Tears filtered into her wide, panicked eyes.

_“Trust me, and take my hand  
When the lights go out, you'll understand...”_

The click of the safety turning off was heard, and Widow reached up, lowering her scope, her eyes half-lidding as she smiled down at the sobbing Mercy.

 _“Pain without love_  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all.”

The sniper prepared to fire, letting her right hand drift down the length of the stock, caressing it like one might a lover's body, fingers finding their way into the proper positions, including the one that situated itself right over the trigger.

“Here's what's going to happen.” She said gently, as she broke away from her little song, her voice just above a whisper, but she had no doubt that the two here were hanging on every faint syllable, every rise and fall of the pitch of her voice as if hearing words for the last time.

For one of them, that might prove to be true.

“I don't need you. Talon doesn't need you.” She said to Mercy, rendered incapable of replying by the way she looked up the barrel at Widow, who was silhouetted by the dim light in the room. All she could make out was the yellow irises of her penetrating eyes. “So... Soldier. You're going to tell me everything that happened... If not...” Jack was already hanging on his binds so hard, struggling so fervently that the chain had begun to cut into his flesh, making it bleed. “If not, well... I guess we get to learn together how long it takes someone to die with a shattered jaw, then, wont we? At this angle, the bullet wouldn't even hit your brain, now would it? But... There's a lot of crucial nerves up here, a lot of important veins. It's going to be such a pity to break open this pretty, ageless face of yours, _Cherie._ ” As casual as she sounded, it was clear by her tone that Widow was beyond irate. She was beyond orders, beyond remorse, beyond any chance of error. She was clearly not fucking around, and if Jack didn't speak in about three seconds, Angela was going to suffer an excruciating death, and he was going to watch all of it.

_“Talk.”_

 

~

 

He was suffocating. Gas bombs were never a forgiving thing, but they were more survivable than actual incendiaries. Supposedly, that was why they used them in mock missions. Gabriel was on his back in the dirt, staring up at a green cas cloud within the warehouse they trained in, his fatigues ripped, his lungs closing. He wanted to turn over and crawl, but he'd already inhaled so much. His team was succeeding their mission, but he was a casualty. He could hear the scream of other men as hard light bullets struck through their armor and against their flesh. It wasn't lethal, but it was enough to emulate the pain of a real bullet for a few days at least, and left one hell of a wicked bruise.

“Not today, Gabe.” A gravelly tone voice uttered, grabbing him beneath his armpits and jerking him up, a hand pressing against his chest, forcing him exhale the gas still in his lungs. Gabriel choked, his eyes watering and turning red. “Come on you bastard, stand goddamnit!” But Gabe was incapable. Then, with a growl of determination, Jack bent and hoisted their Team Captain over his shoulder and began booking it back towards the safe zone.

“Morrison! What the fuck are you doing!” A comm device screamed into his ear. “We need you here now! Larson and Kousen have already made it to the checkpoint, but we're pinned down by the light turrets that Gerrison's put up! Take them out!”

“I'm on it! Fuck, just give me a second!”

“ _Oh christ, he's got to save his fuckin' boyfriend.”_ He heard someone else sigh into the comm, their eyeroll was almost audible.

Jack said nothing, narrowly avoiding a light turret himself as he lunged forward into the safe zone. Gabriel was thrown down onto the dirt nearby, but at least now he was coughing, back in fresh air, his body kicked in and fought to recover.

“You boys couldn't handle this?!” Jack snarled at the two, Eddie and Merrick, who were cowering behind cover. Gabe laid directly before them.

“We're out of ammo and out gunned!” Eddie hissed back, but before he could even finish the statement, Jack was moving. Morrison had always been a hectic, rash sort of soldier. Sure, he was as strong and as fast as the rest of them, faster than some, actually, but that wasn't what made him so formidable. Jack was smart on his feet, good at improvising in ways that the others weren't. He had fled his cover, rifle in hand and now he jumped, rolling behind cover before sitting upright and launching a trio of pulse rounds into the offending light turret. Then, he was jumping forward, towards it, and using its broken corpse as cover. Without warning, his free hand reached down, clutching the leg of the broken machine. His entire upper half twisted and he spun, swinging the wreckage around with deadly aim before he released. It flew abruptly into the remaining light turret, causing it to crack and tip over, failing to function. As he spun to recover himself, he found himself staring down the sights of Gerrison's rifle, a hundred feet away.

But then, there was a sudden, loud boom, and Gerrison, and his rifle, went flying up and over his head, yelping with surprise. He landed unconscious nearby, stunned by the light grenade that had been lobbed his way.

Gabriel was standing now, another light grenade in hand, just in case. He looked like hell, but he was on his feet.

A loud, blaring horn signified that the match was over, and the heavy sound of fans started inside the training facility, sucking out the debilitating gas and ammunition fumes.

 

Later, they were sitting in a mess hall with their team, everyone still dirty, exhausted, and some men missing who were getting patched up. Jack shuffled onto the bench beside Gabriel, nudging him with an elbow as he set down his tray.

“Hey, you're still awake. That's surprising. Feeling better, princess?” he teased.

“ _Fuck off, Pendejo._ ” Gabe was grumpy, but Jack didn't blame him. That gas was dreadful. It caused mild blistering of the skin, eye irritation, lung pain, naturally, and migraines. Gabe was showing all four symptoms. “At least we won.”

“Yeah, we did, no thanks to Eddie and Merrick.” Jack snorted quietly. Those two men were still filling their plates, bragging about their success annoyingly across the mess hall.

“Did you _throw_ a turret?” Gabe asked, poking his fork into mystery-meat and glancing sideways at Jack.

“Saw that, did you? Well those fucks weren't being any help.”

“It was risky. You could have lost an eye or something.”

“You know I'm told they're making medicine that can fix that. Regrow it or... fuckin' something.” Jack replied, stuffing his mouth full of food. Gabe's nose scrunched in minor distaste but he continued his meal anyway.

“Thanks.” he said finally. “You came back for me.”

“Eh. Don't worry about it. You'd have done it for me, wouldn't you... boss?” The last word was a half tease. Their flirtation was a badly kept secret here, but seeing as how everyone was still performing at the highest caliber, SEP officials hadn't bothered to step in and stop them. After all. It wasn't like they were _fucking_...

 

Hours later, Jack shows up at the Captain's quarters, knocking on the door. It was a moment or two before the door opened, he could hear Gabe struggling with the multiple locks before cracking the door open. He stared at Jack blankly for a moment.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Jack said, his faint smirk was hidden from the corridor's security cameras, so only he and Gabe knew about the gesture. Gabriel's eyes rolled, but he turned away from the door, letting it swing open.

“Yes, we needed to go over today's-”

The door shut loudly and all at once, Jack had slipped up behind him, his arms coming around the darker man's torso, hands pawing at the muscle beneath the tight black undershirt they wore beneath their fatigues. Well, Gabriel had abandoned his fatigues seconds after arriving 'home' two hours prior. This left him in nothing more than than long sleeve black turtleneck and a pair of casual black jeans, a heavy belt, no shoes to speak of. Jack was handsy, needily tugging at the attire like it was in his way, his lips trailing against the back of Gabe's neck, breathing in the heavy scent of sweat and dirt, not caring.

“ _Christ.”_ Gabe murmured, reaching up for a moment to rest his hands over Jack's, but soon, he shoved them away and his hand came up, gripping tightly onto the blond turf of the man's scalp. “You don't even give me a chance to be ready, do you? What have I told you about that, _Rubito?_ ” He turned in Jack's grasp, hands shoving him back against the wall with a heavy thud, his devilish smirk curling onto his lips. Jack felt his knees go weak. The captain leaned closer, his lips tracing the cup of Jack's ear as he whispered. “ _We're going to get cleaned up._ ” Gabe's hand was moving, once again teasing the hem of Jack's pants before wedging between it and his flesh. His fingertips traced against his flesh, sliding upwards beneath the fitting material. _“Then you're going to worship me properly.”_ His hand moved upwards even still, pressing his palm against one firm abdominal after another, until it reached the more prominent bulge of his pectoral. Fingers fastened onto one of the blond's nipples, firmly teasing it before tweaking it in a mildly painful pinch. _“Then, maybe if you're a good boy, I'll give you what you want. Understand?”_ Jack all but came undone in Gabriel's hands, realizing he was panting now when he hadn't been before. Obediently, he nodded feverishly. Gabriel grinned viciously then and withdrew his hands, instead using one to grope the firm curve of Jack's ass, then twisted him and shoved him towards the bathroom door.

He followed behind, reaching down and pulling his shirt up over his head and off as he entered behind. The shirt was discarded, and the door shut and locked behind him.

 

~

 

It took Widowmaker hours to find Gabriel this time. He had retreated to the blackest, darkest part of the facility she'd found yet. It was barely more than a janitor's closet, an empty, black cubby within which he all but cowered. His hood was up, but his arms were up over it, his talons clutching onto his head as he shook. His legs were bent at the knee, wedged against the opposite wall. His breathing, uneven. A pool of black ooze like blood sat around him in every direction. In fact, she might not have found him at all if it hadn't been for said ooze, seeping out from under the door like some kind of spreading rot.

She opened the door slowly, but he did not move. Still recovering from the latest, more lewd memory, he barely looked up at her. All she could see of him in this blackness was that horrendous red gleam around his pupils, halos of neon red light that stared up at her, foreign and wide. Quietly, she reached down to her belt and unhooked the mask, holding it out to him.

He looked at it for a moment uncertainly before reaching out and taking it from her.

“ _Thanks.”_ He uttered faintly.

“Reaper... You cannot be like this. You're dying. We must find you something.”

“You found them... You spoke to them?” He asked, ignoring her sentiment.

“...Yes, I spoke to them.”

“What did they tell you?”

“Enough. It doesn't matter now. Come on.”

“Where are we going?” he demanded.

“ _Merde, Reaper, will you protest me every time?_ You need to feed. I have a place. You wont have to kill anyone. Come on.”

Reluctantly, he rose from his place. The ooze collected slightly, as did his shadow, but it was especially hard to control, so he smoked much as if he was on fire. Widow lead him out of the factory, and then down. Like he, she had used the sewers to find her way around, It took a few minutes, but finally they stopped just beneath a building. Through grates in the floor that opened up into an alleyway, he could see the wall of a three story building made of brick. Nothing fancy.

“What is this place?” He asked, looking back to her.

“I've seen you feed before, Reaper. You've fed off of kills I've made. They don't have to be your own. It's a mortuary. They process something like ten to fifteen people a day. I do not know if the bodies are too old for you or... Or what. But perhaps it will work, yes? Try.”

“Try?” he asked. “All of my feeds are fresh kills. Not people who have been dead for a few hours.”

“Not all of these bodies have been dead for so long. Most of these are processed from the... ah... prison.”

“You want me to feed from _criminals?_ ” Reaper asked unsurely, but she fixed him with a level glare, reaching up and unhooking the vent in the ceiling, preparing to exit.

“ _We're_ criminals. Don't tell me now you've suddenly got morals and are _above it_.” She snorted. Reaper said no more and glanced skyward through the grate. He moved up, throwing open the grate just barely and peeking out to make sure it was safe. Then, he wraithed away, his smoke trailing after him, even giving Widow some cover as she made her way up the ladder, hood drawn over her head, sniper rifle carefully tucked against her side, concealed in the shadow of the alleyway.

 

Much to Reaper's surprise, the ploy seemed promising. These bodies were _mostly_ fresh, and whatever it was his body took from them, it was clearly still present by the time he arrived. He discovered this upon the first body he happened across, someone who had just been wheeled in minutes prior. Air vents were always his easiest means of moving around stealthily, and that was no different here. He waited just above a room as the attendants left to handle paperwork, and as they did, the ghast leaned forward and pushed through the vent. He hung suspended over the corpse, drawing closer until his hands latched onto the sides of the metal table upon which the deceased rested. Then, he reached out with his shadow into the body and latched on, feeding. It never took more than a second, but he felt the results almost immediately. Reaper recoiled, feeling his pulse quicken throughout his mist. His body strengthened, and he moved on. He found seven more bodies within just a few minutes. Though he would have been fine with four, he gorged himself, feasting endlessly, almost finding a sort of thrill to it. More and more, his shadows became his own, more under his control now than usual. Exhilaration flooded through his veins, and soon, he was laughing, almost incapable of helping himself. The attendants that wandered around the facility like ants all stopped, questioning each other in faint malcontent. Had anyone else heard that? But before anyone came to investigate, Reaper was gone. Though no one had seen him, no one could explain the way all of the bodies had become white, almost shriveled husks of themselves in here minutes.

Widow all but ran face first into him as he slipped right through a wall, seeping through a vent, his laugh following him. Her eyes popped, staring at him. Already, it was obvious that he was _different._ She could see the change in the way he moved, more fluid and yet more deadly, and to hear him laugh was almost... divine, though it was hard for her to admit that. So often was the rogue so moody and grim that she had begun to wonder if he was just as emotionless as she was. Perhaps even more so? This little act, this little, gluttonous feast of his seemed to prove otherwise with startling ease. Without speaking a word to her, Reaper vanished back down into the grate from where they'd come, and she followed hastily behind, sliding her rifle back onto into its sling as she did. As soon as they had reached the dark halls of the sewer, he became solid again, still chuckling, and already walking back the way they'd come.

“Well... I suppose it worked, did it? You're looking... better.” At least, if the dark tone of his exposed skin was any indication.

“I feel...” The man shuddered out a breath. His head tilted and he cracked his neck, another smile beamed beneath his mask, but she could not see it, only hear it in his tone. “I _feel..._ Like every fiber of me is on fire... It's... incredible.” His body was shaking, she could see it, and without thinking, she reached out to touch his bicep, but he flexed away from her in an instant. His skin was still cold, she noticed, also realizing that she was somewhat disappointed by the fact. Did she think that feeding him would suddenly cure him of all his ailments? “I... I haven't fed like this in months- no.. _years._ ” he stammered, still walking. Widow found herself taken aback by how talkative he suddenly was.

“Good then, the pain is gone.” She uttered abruptly, and he suddenly stopped in his tracks, his head turning towards her.

“Is that why you did this?” He asked, peering at her from the anonymity of his mask. “To stop my pain?”

Widow felt like she was on the spot now, and looked away, striding ahead of him at once.

“Don't be stupid. You were dying. You needed to feed... Without getting yourself killed in the process.” She waved her hand dismissively, but Reaper stared after her. A small half smirk formed upon his lips, and slowly he moved on to catch up with her.

“Right.” He replied, making it quite clear that he didn't believe her, but she didn't reply. Widowmaker couldn't tell him about the debt she felt for what he'd done for her. Were they even now? That was hard to say, but she didn't feel inclined to keep track as of right now. The way he moved and spoke was distracting, that laugh still lingering in her ears. They were silent almost all the way back to the factory, but a few minutes before they would have arrived, she slowed her pace.

“Come with me.” She said then, abruptly turning down a different way, a way he'd not gone in the labyrinth that was the sewer system. It was hardly a scenic route, but it had its uses. Reaper had begun to learn that the more she said that, the better things seemed to get, so this time he went with her without question, wondering what new reward she had waiting for him.

The truth was that Widow had no reward, but for the time being, she wanted to be away from the prying eyes of Talon and Sombra, and wanted to speak to him with some privacy. She lead him a short way until they arrived in an entirely abandoned section of the town, a place quartered off and in ruins. The sewer opened right up, here, blown clear open and leaving a gaping hole into the air above. The sun, however sparse it was, filtered dim light down like ribbons through the jagged edges of the ceiling. Widow stepped into this light, then scaled the ruin into the area above. It was clear that a large omnic battle had once been had here, but... Before that?

There was a small playground in pieces, a fountain with a broken basin, park benches, dead and broken trees, a thick layer of snow on everything. It had been a garden of sorts, a public park. She stepped out from the sewers into the ruined area, dust stirring at her feet. Careful with her steps, she made no effort to hide herself, only noticing that he had stopped at the opening, below her. Looking back at him, she smirked.

“Come on. No one is going to come here. They all think it's unstable.” She soothed, and like a cautious animal, he climbed out, then fell in step behind her.

“What is this place?” he asked. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I lied.” The blue-haired femme said at once, moving to a bench and dusting snow off of the back of it. It was a thick bench made entirely of concrete, the back of it with more than enough space for her to perch her rear upon without trouble. Precariously, she moved to do exactly that, her heels pressing into the seat instead, covered in a thicker layer of snow. Her rifle slipped around in front of her, resting on her lap, an idle plaything for her fingers. Reaper stopped, looking at her in silence, questioning. “You asked me before if I ever wondered about... before. If I wanted to know, or if I trusted what Talon told me.” She looked down, reaching to her utility belt and pulling up a familiar flask, the alcohol inside of it almost gone. “I told you that I didn't, and that I didn't care.” She sipped from the drink, feeling all her nerves soothe at once. “I lied.”

Reaper soaked in this information, moving around to the bench as well, coming to sit on it in much the same fashion she did, only allowing his cloak to hang over the back of it. It wasn't exactly a warm place, but they weren't warm people, so neither complained.

“I remember some of it. Not most of it, but some. I know that my father used to take me to a park when I was young, but I don't remember his name. I don't even remember where I grew up, or who my mother was. I just know that when I remember the park, I see his face. It was a lot like this park is, only in France, of course. I can remember dancing as a little girl, along a pathway that ran up and over a hill. I can remember the smell of flowers in the air, the color of my dress, the taste of ice cream. The snow, it brings back such memories.” She glanced at him. “Every winter holiday, you leave. I've noticed it. I know you're looking for something. For someone. Someone you left behind... I know that because I go looking too, but I always end up at the same place, with a rose in my hand.”

“Where?” He asked quietly.

“... A graveyard.” She said even more softly, her voice trembled, threatening to crack as she remembered it. “I don't know how I know the way, but there is a graveyard. There is a tomb there...” She fell quiet, her eyes down and distant. For a moment, he thought she might be weeping.

“...Gerard?” He presumed. She looked up at him at once and nodded sullenly, proving that there were no tears in her eyes, but veiled sadness and rage all the same.

“Every time I see it... I feel... Pain. Not like the pain of an injury, but something deeper. Sorrow. Regret. There is a reason they call me the Widowmaker, isn't there, Reaper?” She pauses and looks back down into the snow, her heel idly kicking at a defiant stick that's protruded through the ice. Her heel snaps it with no effort. “I think that he was my husband... But he sided with Overwatch... And I did what I had to do.”

Her sharp, yellow eyes turned to him, “I know what it is that the Doctor told you. I know that you must think you were one of them. I know what you were to them. I am sorry I did not tell you before. Talon had commanded me.”

“...That is why you brought me here. To tell me that? To apologize?” He asked.

“Yes... and no. I suppose I brought you here because just once, I want to tell someone I trust about myself, about what I think without someone leering over my shoulder, analyzing my every word. I want to hope that maybe someday I could move on from all this.”

“Do you think that either of us can move on from what we've done?” He countered tersely.

This struck Widow into silence for a moment, eyes looking down. Sighing, she looked back at the shadowed man beside her. “We've done a lot, it's true. But so have they. Who's to say they're the heroes, and not us? They are corrupt, Reaper. You must know that's true.”

“I barely know anything.” He grumbled, looking away, his mood starting to sour.

“You always try to help yourself, and accept nothing from anyone else.”

“You've already done enough.”

“You don't want my aid?” She asked, brows lofting, she seemed mildly upset.

“That's not what I meant.” He growled, frustrated with himself as he looked away, to the distant side of the park, his boot kicking a chunk of snow off of the bench. “I meant that you've been helping me all this time, and I don't know why. I haven't done anything- I sure as hell haven't asked for it.”

“You did not have to ask for it. You saved my life, twice.”

Now, opening up to people had never been Gabriel's shtick, so to speak. Not even when he was an entirely mundane, innocent college student. Always, he'd been very closed about his thoughts and his feelings, and getting behind that internal wall was something of an achievement. Now, could he really tell Widow what it was that had been bothering him all this while? The flashes of visions, the nightmares? His eyes closed and he sighed.

“You wanted to know about my dream.” He said at last. Barely nodding, she looked at him expectantly. He continued after a brief moment. “For the last few months I've been having... Dreams... Flashes... Memories and nightmares. It's why I don't sleep-”

His lips felt suddenly very dry and he licked them, grunting with self disapproval. “This is stupid. Why are we talking about this? We shouldn't even be _discussing_ this.”

“Perhaps that's why we should.” She interjected, now half turned on her seat to look at him, giving him her undivided attention, a feat in and of itself.

He shook his head. “Talon wouldn't want it.”

“Talon didn't want you to come on this... “mission,” either.” She pointed out.

Hesitantly, he finally shrugged and all but murmured out. “I think that I had a... Relationship...” It took Widow a moment to process what it was that he's said, but when she did, she glanced sharply at him, her brows high.

“...With her? With Ziegler?” Widow seemed shocked, but he slowly looked back at her.

“ _...No. NOT with Ziegler._ ” Reaper responded in a sharp, embarrassed tone. For a long moment the two were quiet, Widow looked away, realization dawning on her- was that a flush? Was widow blushing? Could she _even_ blush? Clearing her throat awkwardly she looked away.

“Morrison, then... Do you think that's why he's here?”

“Maybe? I... I'm not sure. He has been trying to kill me, but he's botched all of his best shots. Remember when they attacked our base, and he got the jump on us?” She nodded, so he continued. “Why didn't he just shoot us then? Why did he announce himself and tell us to stop?” Widow seemed to stop too, her thoughts puzzling it out. Reaper doesn't even seem to notice that Widow, too, knows that Jack is Seventy-six. It's like she's known this all along.

“You think he wanted you alive?”

His mouth was dry as a bone, and his hand reached up to rub lightly at his throat. Seeing his issue, Widow reached down and plucked the flask from her belt entirely and handed it over to him.

“Take the last of it.” She offered, then crossed her arms, the cold finally starting to get to her. Reaper took it, glanced over it, then reached up to nudge his mask. He pushed it up just high enough that his lips were revealed, and then tipped it back to his lips. He finished the lot of it. Not red wine, he discovered, but smooth, albeit strong whisky. Widow was all too preoccupied by the reveal, the dark, healthy gleam of his skin and lips, the thickness of his goatee, almost like he was young again. Sucking in a breath, he handed the empty item to her and pulled his mask back down into place, and braced himself for his words.

“Ziegler begged me to free them and come away with them.” he revealed. But, this was something Widow had clearly not heard from Jack by the way she suddenly recoiled, her brows knitting in sparked anger. Talking about his past with Overwatch made Reaper uncomfortable, especially now as he'd dropped the bomb on Widow what it was that had thrown him into such a fury. He did not want to think about everything they'd said, or the fact that Ziegler had confessed to making him into this thing. Or that Jack, who he had obviously been intimate with, now thought of him as nothing more than a mindless animal.

“They think I'm some... Monster. To her, I'm an experiment. To him, not the man he knew before. Not worth saving.”

_Was he all of those things? Any of those things?_

It was not the first time Reaper had asked himself that question, and its mere presence in his mind caused him to snarl mutedly. Widow reached out and touched his gauntlet lightly, not that he could feel her touch through the armor, but he saw the motion and looked from her hand up to her face.

“You might be a monster, but so am I. There's nothing wrong with who and what we are.” She said firmly. He looked at her for a long moment, and she continued lightly. “And that... is NOT going to happen. You belong here with Talon. With me.”

After latching her now empty flask back in place, she looked back at him and leaned forward, however tentative, gauging his reaction to her motions. Reaper could already feel the effects of the alcohol, despite that he couldn't get drunk, feeling somehow calmer and more docile. Despite that, it didn't stop his body from tensing up when her right hand reached out. This didn't stop her however, she was forward, and this time, not afraid to give away what she felt. What _did_ she feel, anyway? Widow hardly knew, herself. This wasn't love, but it was slightly more than a passing fancy. It wasn't some animal lust she suddenly felt, but a desire for closeness that she could not quell. A sense of kinship that she wanted to satiate with a touch. Tentatively, her hand slipped up to the mask he wore. A thumb pushed up the edge of it, nudging it upwards. The straps around his head slid with the motion and the mask moved up. Her other hand came now, and swept the item away entirely. His face was just as healthy as the lips and jaw had promised. Sharp, angular, aggressive but handsome features, chestnut eyes flecked with red. For a moment she took him in, staring at him, and he stared back, nervous but unmoving.

Without an ounce more hesitation, she moved forward and closed the few inches between them and kissed him. This time, it was not the chaste, aggressive thing she had given him when he had saved her the first time, but gentler and calmer, experimental. There was some comfort to the chill of her skin, much like his own, though her skin was infinitely smoother than his was, and her touch was a welcome respite from his mixed feelings. His eyes had closed almost at once, and though he sought to pull away from her, her hands latched gently onto his head beneath his hood and pulled him closer again. Her voice came as a tiny plea after the initial motion.

_“Non! S'il vous plaît. I need this.”_

_She needed this? She needed him?_

Within moments and without thinking, he was kissing her back. His breathing grew heavier, as did hers, and before he could properly prepare himself, she moved, slipping her rifle onto the ground beside them and claiming his lap, nearly causing him to slip off of the stone bench they were perched on. His hands shifted, one gripping the bench and the other latching onto her hip for support. But then, her lips smothered over his again, a faint, excited moan pulling out of her, her brows hitched upwards. Yet, as she kissed him, Jack's face flashed in his mind, bringing back those memories, those dreams. The shade's body began to react in the most natural, if unexpected way that it could, forming a hard, uncomfortable tent in the crotch of his pants, for the moment he found himself cursing the fitting nature of them. He groaned in response, and as he did, she broke away, looking down between them, breath exhaled quickly out of her and she murmured something incoherent in french, dropping her hand from his scalp down the length of his chest towards the bulge. Reaper gulped _hard_ and his hands tightened on both hip and bench, trying to keep steady.

“We can't do this here...” He barely managed to utter out, losing himself to her touch. The worries and concerns he had from minutes prior seemed to dissolve into nothingness, as if they had _never_ mattered. Widow was his closest friend, his partner, the only other Talon agent that was worth mentioning. Why _wouldn't_ they do this? Why wouldn't he want this with her... And why had he pushed her away for so long, ignoring this? Later, he might find the irony in his pleading words given the memory he'd had of Jack, but right now, nothing mattered besides what her lips were doing and the way her palm pressed longingly against his aching erection through the leather of his pants. She seemed not to have heard him at any rate, as she continued, grinding her palm against the obvious and forcing an almost pained growl off of the man's lips. He was forced to repeat himself, this time with more conviction and aggression. “ _Not... here.”_

This time, she heard him, and withdrew her hands all at once, brought his mask up and shoved it into his hands. She hopped off of him then, snatching her rifle from the ground and then made a bee-line towards the broken tunnel they'd climbed out of.

“Come on.” She said for a final time, her eyes and tone heavy with need. “Before I change my mind.” Reaper didn't need to be told twice. He followed after her, stopping them twice in the tunnels for another sudden, if rough session of groping. The factory wasn't even all that far away, no more than a couple minutes, but he could not stop himself. His body craved this now and cried for more, left ravenous with no outlet. But, the sewers were a welcome place to exactly no one, not even these two. They were dirty, reeked, and in this weather, acted like cylindrical iceboxes. Their moderate shelter with its shoddy amenities would be more than a welcome enough sight after this.

They didn't even bother taking the chamber through the facility that would lead them past their prisoners, instead, heading directly for the only room in the place that had a modicum of comfort- the room Reaper had bathed in. Once more, he introduced her back to a wall before they arrived and pressed himself against her, pinning her between the two. His head leaned in, not bothering to remove the mask as he pressed it up against the exposed portion of her neck, inhaling thickly along her flesh as though to catch traces of her scent. In response, Widow shuddered, her hand reaching down to start the arduous task of undoing his belts, but all at once he lifted her. Carrying her just as she was, he took them the last few meters to the room, kicked it open with a boot and then slammed it hut with his heel behind them. The moment they were alone, her fingers curled around the mask again and tugged it away, tossing it sideways onto the floor. This time, Reaper didn't care, immediately capturing her mouth in a dominant, fierce kiss. The clatter of her gun hitting the ground startled him into movement, and his steps reversed themselves. The backs of his knees met the edge of the bed and he sat, but as he did so, her hands gave him a small shove, forcing his back to the bed entirely, causing his hood to fall off and away from his head, revealing his face in the dim, flashing red light that Sombra's device still provided. The other power services had worn out by now, but the apparent beacon on it was still going, causing them both to see themselves in a series of pulsing red images. She became moderately dominant, but her strength was no match for his. Despite that, he wanted to see what she'd do. Though he didn't see all of what she was doing, he could feel her, the way her hands tugged at his armor and feverishly threatened the seams of his clothing. In a few moments, a cool rush of air suddenly hit his chest as she got his armor undone, revealing his torso to herself and the blackness of the room. Hands like roaming gluttons swallowed up every inch of his muscle that she could reach, exploring him and teasing him with her fingernails, eliciting another set of faint moans.

She was straddling him, and the more she moved, the more he began to feel the way her hips ground down against him, teasing and tormenting the bulge between them.

“ _God.”_ He panted, “ _Just fuckin' do it,”_ not a beg, but a demand. He could practically feel her smirk in the chuckle that rolled off of her.

“No patience, mon cher? Tisk, how eager you are.”

“ _You started this._ ” he reminded almost bitterly, but it was clear that his tone was brought on merely by impatience. Yet, there was some thrill to being teased this way and not being given what his body direly craved. There was an excitement to being built up so tremendously and not offered his relief. It made the man shudder beneath her, a motion that her hands easily caught. Their eyes had begun to adjust to the light now, and he could see her as she moved, the way she ravenously tugged and manipulated his belts until they came undone. She had exposed his chest, but left his coat on, and now it seemed she had given up on the idea of removing those impossibly heavy steel boots of his, and instead was focused purely on getting to _him_ as quickly as possible. As they shifted and jostled, he moved further up the bed, giving them more room to work. Removing her boots as quickly as she was able was hardly an easy feat, but she managed, and eventually he could hear them thud to the floor behind her. The belts came open at last and she deftly worked over the clasp of his pants, finding almost no difficulty. Finally, the sound of the zipper, Gabriel swore he'd never heard something so inviting before, nor as relieving as the sudden release his cock felt from its unexpected leather prison. She jerked the pants down, finding trouble at long last. They were fitted, tactical pants, and Reaper's thighs were a _special_ sort of size, the kind that made men and women grow weak at the knees and wet in between. Struggling, she finally managed to get them down just half way on those muscles before she gave up. Yellow eyes feasted over him, the seductive narrowness of his waist in contrast to the width of his shoulders, the way his hip muscles made a V cut so sharply that it may as well have been giving directions to the aching, throbbing thickness at its apex. As the Widow beheld him, she wished that she had somehow managed to convince him into this before. Beyond any doubt, this was going to hurt in the most perfect sort of way.

Then, all at once she began. She leaned forward, tracing her nose and lips along the length of his shaft, inhaling him, that masculine scent along with that familiar, metallic tint that he carried with him at all times. But then, a hot, almost hostile sounding rumble pulled out of the shade, his brows pinching, his mouth falling slightly agape with the sudden attention. His hands felt useless, so despite how much he wanted not to interrupt her, he wasn't about to let her have her fill without getting an eyeful of his own. Widow was not wearing armor, however, and Gabriel was a hell of a lot stronger than he let on, especially now. Without another word, his talons latched onto the fabric and began to pull. The seams of her hoodie threatened to crack, a few snapping when he tugged until it came off. Soon, the navy toned long sleeve beneath it came off too, and it was only a matter of seconds before his fingers found the clasp of her bra and snapped it away. All three fell to the floor, completely disregarded and forgotten in an instant. Gasping at the sudden cold rush of air, her lips parted and now kissed intimately along the man's length. A hand lifted him up at his base, tipping his length up and away from his body, made a toy between her fingers. Her slick, soft tongue escaped her mouth to run along the underside of him, teasing her way up to the tip, tracing along his glans and sensitive nerves. Reaper's body trembled, goosebumps forming on his skin.

“Christ sake, Widow, _get on with it!_ ” He snarled at last, too impatient to wait for her, too thirsty to keep up with this level of teasing. It had been a long, long time for him, and he knew that if she wasted hers, he'd be done before she ever got her chance. Finally, Widow caved. Her lips, smooth as silk, slipped around his thick tip and lowered, drawing him into her mouth and closing her eyes, letting her tongue and lips learn intimately the thickness of this man. Navy brows pinched upwards, and one of her free hands moved, beginning to undo her own pants since they were out of Reaper's reach. Meanwhile, her head lowered until it simply couldn't anymore, the tip of him found the back of her throat and threatened to go deeper. His moans were audible, and the more excited he got, the more his shadows seemed to drift up and off of him, curling against and around her.

Widow began to bob, all but driving the man crazy with need. One of his hands fled the bed, suddenly tangling into her blue hair and latching onto it for a firm hold of her scalp. It took every ounce of effort for him to stop himself from simply bucking eagerly, borderline angrily, up into her mouth. Moans now came on every breath, the muscles of his body tensed and bulged against the constraints of his own clothing, making him almost feel bound- another exciting sensation he hadn't expected.

It was mere moments before he simply couldn't take it anymore. Hands fled their holds and reached down, fastening onto her arms and jerking her up, his legs shoving down her pants with the cold kiss of a metal boot. Their lips met again, and as they did, his right hand clutched onto the side of her panties. Withholding not even a measure of strength, he ripped them away like tissue paper, ruining them irreparably and throwing them aside. Their voices intermingled now, along with their tongues as they kissed roughly, lustily against each other.

He rolled then, turning her over and pinning her with one of his hands. His hood came up, slightly shadowing them both as their lips remained in motion. Her legs spread with ease around his hips, inviting him in, her hands racing up over his shoulders and latching there. But, before she could even begin to get comfortable with that, he snatched both of her wrists in one hand and promptly pinned them over her head, pressing down and forcing her to arch her back up off of the bed, pressing her bare chest against his. The touch of her cool flesh to his sent a heavy tremble through his muscled frame, urging him on. His lips fled hers and moved downward, pressing onto her neck a moment before his teeth were revealed and in seconds, bit down. She cried out in surprised alarm, but soon, a long, crooning moan yawned out of her, trailed off by a voiceless whisper of desire.

It was nothing like the cry moments there after, however. Reaper, with his cock still slickened by her ministrations, pressed himself forward, coaxing his thick tip against her tight, wet folds. He had no patience, already driven so far with her teasing that he could not wait. Roughly, he plunged himself into her as far as he would go, causing the loud, pained cry to yelp past her lips.

 _“Mon dieu, be gentle!”_ She snapped with a panted breath, but he did not reply. Perhaps he could not. He was so far gone that words barely registered to him, and she was lucky that he managed to start slow at all. The pace was taken to savor how tight she'd become around him, trying to shut out his intrusion despite how pleasurable it was. Widow had not felt so completely filled and pushed to her maximums in as long as she could remember. Her head fell back, giving in and letting Reaper take what he clearly wanted.

And take, he did. His motions were almost violent, but she recognized them for what they were, ravenous and heated. Again and again, his hips recoiled only to buck into her. Soon, the sound of their voices was joined by the audible slap of flesh against flesh and the thud of the bed forcing its complaints upon the wall before it. A dark hickey had formed where he had bitten her, but he seemed not to care, moving to a new place and biting down again, his brows pinching as pleasure threatened to overtake him. But, widow was tightening even more than she had been minutes prior, and he looked up at her, abandoning his bite to see into her eyes. She was staring at his coat, uttering a jolted moan with each inward thrust, her hands trying to free themselves of his grasp.

“ _What is it?”_ He half-whispered, wanting to make sure he wasn't hurting her _too_ badly, after all. Did she suddenly want to stop?

“ _Them... Let me see them. I want to feel them!”_ She breathed, her words quickly spat out, desperate and begging.

The arms. A wild sort of smirk came onto his lips then, fiendishly glowering down at her. There came that laugh again, thundering through his chest and into her own. His lips lowered, kissing their way down her chest to a nipple, which he teased with his tongue. All at once her back was arching up into the touch, her breath hitching. the moment he released her hands, they fled to the bed, gripping it violently. He knew without needing to be told that she was finishing. The feel of it was incredible. Tight and intense, ever so wet, her body constricting and trembling all around him. He struggled not to lose himself in those same moments, but pressed on, instead, riding through her climax as roughly as he could manage. This made Widow cry out so loudly that he had no doubts that their captives somewhere else in the facility probably had full knowledge of what they were doing.

Something about the idea of the Soldier hearing him do this, after all Jack had said, made Reaper take even more pleasure in the fact. _Yes, let my little pet listen in while I fuck someone else._

Widow's climax slowly drew to an end, her hands coming up and tucking under his coat, she pushed at it, panting at him. It seemed she wouldn't have time to see the arms today.

_“Y-you didn't-..?”_

_“I'm not done with you yet.”_ He cut her off, but his own finish was not far behind. A few more rough bucks and a few especially rough grunts and he stilled, holding himself against her, inside her. It went without saying that neither of them were at any risk here, not with how heavily both of their bodies had been modified. His seed spilled into her all the same and as they both came down from their highs, they sunk into one another, trying desperately to catch their breath.

Eventually, he rolled off of her and moved away to the bathroom to take an especially cold shower, and as he did so, Widow picked herself up as casually as if she'd just finished doing business, redressed herself- well, all save for the panties, which were shoved into a trash bin, and stalked out, moving to clean herself up somewhere else where she could properly assess what had happened now that it was all said and done.

 

All the while, a pair of violet eyes stared on from a micro camera instilled into the pulsing device on the wall. Her laugh fell out of her, smirking and turning away from the holovid, head shaking gently, her finger priming over the power button.

 

“ _Boop!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics, Tree Day's Grace- Pain
> 
> Today is the last day for you to enter the Art raffle contest! Enter and have a chance to win a free piece of art of the scene of your choice from the story!  
> To enter, see all details on Chapter 5 - Rain!


	8. Mistakes

~

 

It was three fourteen in the morning, and Jack woke up with a start, a scream pulling him out of his nightmare and shocking him awake. His blue eyes adjusted to the gloom if barely, focusing on the only thing that offered any light. It's a small green light over the doorway into his room, making it clear that it was unlocked. Jack sat upright in his bed, wiping a cold sweat off of his brow and analyze it as if it's conspicuous somehow. Goosebumps fled up the length of his arm as the images come back into his mind. Three men flying apart from a blast too close to them, their limbs scattered, their voices ending before they even hit the ground. The smell of rifle fire and ammunition, smoke choking their lungs, death everywhere he looks. Jack is covered in blood, not his own, but of men he'd just been having breakfast with that morning, or at least, the morning they'd had together, thirty six hours prior. No one had slept since then until now. Frankly, they were lucky they'd even made it out.

A faint knock on the door alerts Jack to Gabriel's presence, but Gabe hardly waits for a reply before entering. His chestnut brown eyes landed on the blond, locked with his sapphire blue stare. Jack sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and cradling his head in his hands. Gabe doesn't need to ask what happened. They both know, because they'd both been there. As Jack had watched the bodies fly, Gabriel had grabbed him and dragged him out of the dirt, saving his life. Over a hailstorm of bullets and bastion fire, he hears Reyes yell.

“ _The evac unit is close, come on! We can't stay here, Morrison!”_ He jerked him upright and ran with him, but Gabriel nurses a limp. His abdomen is bathed in sticky red and brown gore, and his leg seems to share a similar fate.

Even now, as Gabe stands before him in the doorway of his quarters, Jack can see the outline of bandaging around his thigh and the lower left side of his torso, the sleeping fatigues provided to them little more than fitted underwear. He's wearing a tank top too, even this marked with his rank, and the number seventy five. The injured Gabriel steps forward sits next to him, albeit tenderly, careful. For a long moment, the two sit in the dark, saying nothing, looking down at themselves, letting the quiet of the night consume them. Finally, Jack's hoarse voice breaks through the darkness, reaching out to Gabe.

“They died because of me, Gabe.” He sounds... Defeated. Broken.

“It was your first mission as a Captain. You couldn't have known.”

“It doesn't matter! I'd seen what we were up against... I should have known. I should have seen it coming.”

“You're being hard on yourself. They wouldn't blame you for this.”

“But you wouldn't have made the same mistake.”

And he hadn't. Gabriel had gotten all of his team out of the red zone a full two minutes before the drop ship landed. Only then had he come charging back to help Jack out of the situation he'd gotten his entire team trapped in.

“You don't know that. It's never the same, Jack. It's never easy. I... We were just in a better place, at a better time. That isn't skill, it's just luck.”

“It was a mistake for them to make me captain.”

“Was it?” Gabe asked, looking over at him, hiding his sadness. Leaning into Jack, his arm comes around him, letting his warmth soak into the blond soldier. Jack's eyes had glazed over and he glared away, refusing to let Gabe see him this way. But, Gabe whispers to him. “We've all fucked up before. It's not something we can help. You did your best. They did their best... You just can't let it get to you like this. They're soldiers, Jack. Just like us. They knew what they signed up for.” But somehow, these words that were meant to comfort Jack set him off instead. He shrugs off Gabe's arm and all but snarls at him.

“ _I didn't sign up to be the one to send other good men to die, Reyes, that ain't why I'm here. I came to fight. I came to help... But now those guys will never go home again- don't you get that? How can you throw away their lives so easily!?”_

Gabe is taken aback slightly, his arm that had been around Jack drawing back towards his lap, useless. Gabriel had been a Captain now for a bit longer than Jack had. His team was faster and harder trained, and did especially well in their missions. Even so, they'd had their fair share of casualties, too. It wasn't that he devalued their lives, its just that he knew war had a heavy cost, and that ultimately, defeating the omnics would save them all. Small prices to pay, in his mind.

Jack didn't see it that way. In his mind, he had let those men die, no- not merely let, but he had walked them into their very coffins. It was his call that had gotten them killed. Gabe had been the one to recommend Jack be promoted to Captain, since one of the others had gotten killed in the line of duty. But, ever since that had happened, Jack had grown a little harsher, a little colder, a little more serious than he had been before. Their relationship had suffered only a little bit, despite how stressed they both were. Wartime for SEP soldiers was hardly a walk in the park. Their final round of injections had killed five people, and left Jack and Gabe both down and out for the better part of a whole week. Now, they were both finished 'products' so to speak, and how better to test Jack's moral and strategic resolve than to send him into combat? If he was as competent as Gabe had touted, he'd be fine, right?

The two had been roomed together, naturally, Jack taking the old bedroom where the last Captain had once slept. Now Gabe sat with him, both staring at one another in the darkness, illuminated only by that green light over the doorway.

Gabriel's eyes turned down and slowly he moved to stand, taking a few steps towards the door.

“Gabe, wait... Don't...” Jack said, his voice seeming weak. Gabe stopped in the door, still looking down, his hand resting on the door frame. “I'm sorry.” Jack continued. “It's just. I don't know. I hate this. I hate that I have to choose who lives and dies. I hate that I couldn't save them.”

Gabe's mouth opens as though he's going to say something, but he stops and lifts his eyes somewhat, closing them. He sighs before replying across the distance.

 _“You can't always be the hero, Jackie.”_ Then, Gabriel stepped out and made an abrupt left, heading into the room across from the holo-tele, his own room. Jack can hear the door click. He's outraged with himself. Gabe was only trying to help. The man had been trying to keep him under his wing from the moment he got promoted, for which Jack was eternally grateful. It was especially helpful having someone as experienced as him nearby, so close at hand, there to comfort him in his darkest times. But this, he didn't seem able to shake this off. Those men had died a week ago, and though people died regularly, they'd never been on Jack's team. He could not help but feel the weight of their blood on his hands.

Ultimately, he stood and moved away, slipping into the bathroom and washing off his face and arms. As he's walking back, he stops beside the sofa, glancing at Gabe's door. The green light is on there, too. There's a hesitation in Jack's step. Does he dare, after so quickly shoving Gabe away from him, after everything they've been through at this point? His feet shuffle towards the door all the same, and he lets himself in, without knocking. The tank top is on the floor now, the seventy-five face up.

“Reyes?”

Gabe is on his side facing the wall, his head on a pillow, his back to Jack.

“Mmh?” Comes a grunted reply.

Without saying anything else, Jack steps forward, shutting the door behind him, locking it. A hand reaches down and grips the covers, drawing them back. He can see Gabe's exposed back, and the bandaging that goes all the way around him, heavily padded on the left side where a bastion had torn into him. His knee comes to the edge of the bed and slowly he crawls onto it. Gabe doesn't move, but feeling Jack's arms come around him is a welcome, warming gesture. Always, the home-grown hoosier was like a heater compared to Gabe's own flesh. Jack curls up against him, his hand searching out one of the other's. Their fingers interlace.

_“Reyes... We'll make it through this. Right? Promise me.”_

_“...That's an impossible promise, Jackie._

_… But I can promise you that I'll be there 'til I can't.”_

_“You and me?”_ Jack whispers into the quiet of the room, bathing over Gabe's shoulder.

 _“You and me.”_ Gabe replies.

 

_~_

 

Jack stirs slowly. There's something in his senses that bring him back to the grim reality of things, away from the ancient seeming fond memory. His hands are bound over his head, his knees and ankles locked, trapped. Two of his fingernails are missing, and there's dried blood on his face, neck, and running down his wrists. All of this only seemed to serve as proof that Reyes was gone. Beyond gone. Irreplaceable, lost. Reaper had consumed him. Jack had always known that Gabe's mental issues were a problem, but even he couldn't have guessed that it would go this far. Now here he was, likely to die to the same man he had given himself too so freely. Gabriel Reyes; just another one of the men that Jack had somehow lead to their deaths... Except now, a wandering ghost paraded around his body, tormenting Jack's mind. He needed to be put down. He couldn't stand the idea that Gabriel's legacy was now overshadowed by this one thing, this horrible manifestation of hate and rage that he had become, incapable of proper emotion, remorseless and wicked beyond belief. If anyone was worthy of putting him down and saving Gabe from the hell he was currently in, it was Jack.

His blue eyes shifted to Ziegler, off to his right in her cell. She was unconscious, sitting against her wall, head back, eyes closed. Once again, it was early morning, but something had woken Jack all the same. He heard it now and then, something like footsteps. A far cry from the lustful sounds he'd caught hours earlier. That Widow and Reaper were something more than partners had always been a speculation, especially the way they seemed to look out for each other. Now, it was no longer a question in Jack's mind, but the idea of _him with her,_ in any capacity, boiled Jack's blood beyond any reasonable amount.

It wasn't Gabe, he told himself. It was just a ghost, getting his rocks off with an equally emotionless wretch. Nothing to be upset about... right?

That hadn't stopped the awkward glances between Ziegler and himself when they'd both heard it. The two captives had chosen to simply look away from each other for the entire duration, simply... pretending that neither of them nor the sound existed for that whole while.

But, nothing could distract him from this sound now, as it came again. It was a creak, especially low frequency, with a metallic timbre to it. _Thump Thump._ The sound of crushing snow, the cry of hinges. They were not alone, he knew, but their two captors were nowhere in sight.

 

Reaper had slept like the dead that night, truly. When he woke his chest felt stiff, and everything hurt. This happened now and then, and usually a little bit of alcohol helped, or a hot bath, but he was fresh out of both. Perhaps Widow would have some?

 _Widow._ The previous day flashed through his mind, causing him to reach up and rub idly at his neck, face, and chest, as if looking for _evidence._ He found none, but knew he couldn't simply say it hadn't happened, either. What the hell had he been thinking? Widow was a partner, another agent, no less. This would certainly complicate matters, especially if Talon found out. The shade had questions, and who better to ask than the spider herself? So he set off through the facility, looking for her, his steps echoing where he went.

Ultimately, he found her in the same break room he had been originally sleeping in, sitting at a table. Her mouth was open, almost lewdly primed over the tip of...

Reaper's reaction was instant. His steps paused and his head canted to the side. A chuckle rolled out of his throat before he could even think to stop himself. “I knew you must have practiced that _somewhere_. Is that a baguette?”

Widow almost choked on it, startling herself at his sudden arrival, hacking down what she'd already bitten off.

“ _Mon dieu, wear a fucking bell, Reaper.”_ She cursed, a flush darkening her purple cheeks. “Yes. It's a baguette. Some of us still have to eat. Fuck off.” She snapped venomously at him, yellow eyes glaring his way. Then, as if to punctuate her sentiment, she took another especially aggressive _chomp_ of the bread that made him wince beneath his mask.

Moving on, he slipped around her and took a seat at the couch.

“We need to talk.” He uttered, all mirth leaving his voice.

“No, we don't.” She said in a sharp, factual tone. He stared at her levelly and sighed.

“Yes we do.”

In a huff, she set down her mediocre breakfast and lifted her lemon stare back his way, hand waving. “What is there to talk about, hm? The prisoners? Talon? Sombra? The snow?”

“Last night.” He interjected bluntly. Her eyes rolled.

“No. There is nothing that needs to be said.”

“I think there is.” He said, voice growing terse. She seemed exasperated, frustrated. Gone was all the desire and want she'd shown the night before. What the hell had changed? “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” he uttered.

“There is _nothing_ going on, and _nothing_ to talk about. It was just a stupid night, a... lapse in judgment. It is something that Talon is _never_ going to learn about, do we understand each other?” Her voice was as sharp as nails. Reaper was offended, his head canting and soon he moved to stand, but the gesture was fluid, so as to try and disguise his aggression.

“Is that what you think it was? A mistake?” He asked.

Without looking up from her baguette, her eyes narrowed.

“ _Yes. A stupid mistake.”_ She doesn't skip a beat in her timing. Frigid.

And there he left it, rage bristling at the back of his mind, almost forcing a grow out of his throat, but he did not permit it. Instead, he glared away towards the door and strode out, letting it slam behind him as he left. She didn't try to stop him nor make any effort to go after him.

 

It was only a minute after that when the blast struck the building.

The blast was so loud that the very building itself cracked on its foundations. The glass chambers within which Morrison and Ziegler were being kept broke, jolting both of them aside. Jack twisted as much as he could, placing his feet against the wall he was against and shoving away from it with a pained sort of snarl. The pipe to which his hands were pinned gave free, and in a second, he'd loosed them. His shoulders ached terribly from the way they'd been kept pinned for the last several days, making him cry out. In a rush, he worked his fingers against the binds at his ankles. Not chains, but rope, and cut himself free with a shard of glass. From there, he was able to work his knees out of the chains about them, and his elbows as well. Though his hands were still cuffed in metal, he was able to do enough with his feet to kick at the cracks in Mercy's cell.

“Come on, we're getting out of here!” he yelled towards her.

 _“You're not going anywhere._ ” Reaper's reverberating voice called out to them as he suddenly launched himself at Soldier, tackling him sideways to the ground. After the blast, he had been knocked sideways into the wall of the hallway. Another Overwatch attack, he guessed, and had promptly charged down the hall towards his captives. Now, he and Morrison were locked in a brutal feud as the building threatened to come down around them. The ceiling cracked, and pieces of it fell down around them, causing Ziegler to scream. Her cry caused Jack to look up, throwing Reaper off of him despite his handcuffed state. His lip was already bleeding, but adrenaline made that pointless just now. As the wraith moved to come after them again, a sudden ring of sniper fire ricocheted off the walls, narrowly missing Jack's head.

All their heads turned her way, a balcony high overhead and behind them. They all seemed surprised, but Reaper was wondering how it was she'd suddenly decided that they'd gotten enough out of Morrison and that he deserved to die.

That had always been part of the order, hadn't it?

Widow was simply doing her job.

At least, she was until the whole balcony let out a loud, offending crack. Time seemed to freeze for him, and everything slowed. Reaper met her gaze, and she met his, her brows lofted full of fear. Without thinking, he rushed forward, abandoning his fight with Jack in a second's time. A large chunk of the ceiling came crashing down then, blocking off his view of her, and his access.

Then the balcony gave way entirely, and before Widowmaker had a chance to move, she went down with it, the shadow of her figure lost in a cloud of brown dust.

“WE HAVE TO MOVE!” Reaper heard Jack shouting at Ziegler who he had just released, but he was carrying her now, rushing towards a door that had swung ajar to the outside. But Ziegler was looking back at Reaper, who had ceased to exist beyond the black cloud he had become. He rushed, frantically scaling over the walls and collapsing rubble, moving like an avalanche to where the balcony had collapsed in on itself.

 _Widow!_ There was nothing now in his mind beyond that he had to reach her, regardless the harsh words they'd shared moments prior.

As he reached the height of the pile, he took solid form, on his knees, beginning to dig, throwing aside chunks of collapsed debris even as more began to pile on from the crumbling ceiling and pillars around him. Ziegler stared after him, her eyes wide with wonder and sadness, even as Jack rushed her out of the building. Her breathing shuddered out of her at what she was seeing.

“We have to stop!” She gasped, suddenly gaining her voice, she pounded lightly on Jack's chest. “Stop- stop! Look at him! Reaper- _Gabriel!_ JACK, LOOK!” She yelled, and for a very brief moment and a string of curses, he did. He stopped and turned, his eyes landing on the ravenous, 'inhuman' fiend, desperately struggling to dig Widow out of the wreckage. It was enough to shock him into silence, his feet slowed but did not stop. If they lingered, they would die.

And so would Reaper.

“There's NO time!” he roared.

“Where is- we have to get him out!” Ziegler screamed, suddenly struggling her way out of Jack's arms and rushing back. Her lithe figure cuts through the debris, finding its strength to leap over fallen chunks of cement and metal. “Reaper!” She cries up to him, but he can't hear her, too focused on his goal, his need to help Widow, who may have very well already been crushed for all he knew. Driven by an almost impulsive need, Ziegler rushes forward, struggling but managing to scale her way up to him, then, in a moment of insane bravery, she latches onto his arm, but he wrenches free, screaming.

“NO! I have to- I have to!” His voice is inhuman, frantic, ghostly and harrowing, but unmistakably tinted with hurt and fear. Need. Hearing it breaks Ziegler's heart.

“She's _gone_ Gabriel! It's too late! You're going to DIE if you stay here! Come with us- Gabriel- PLEASE!”

 _“I have to-”_ He started to protest, but Ziegler had latched onto him again. Jack stared up at them, frantically trying to steady himself against the crumbling building, ready to protect Ziegler at any moment, and keeping his eyes on Reaper, who may very well attack her in his fury.

But then, something happened. As her arms latched onto him, he for once did not jerk away, didn't ghost out of her grasp, nor tug or fight. His eyes were perpetually transfixed on the dusty pile he'd been digging in.

“Come on- We have to go!” She insisted, and suddenly she was turning, trying to drag him with her, but he doesn't move. His mind reels.

“Angela...! Come on, we have to move NOW!” Jack roars, warning her against her actions, loudly. Ziegler gives one last look at Reaper, her eyes scanning the emotionless black pits of his mask before she turns and flees with Jack, a bitter sob cracking out of her throat, both rushing out through the gaping door nearby. As they look back, Reaper is still standing there, as if in a daze. His mind is a haze of worry and thought, paralyzed with the unknown.

Without widow, Talon is all but insufferable to him. Moreover, they have exhausted their purpose now. He knows now what they refused to tell him outright, despite that Widow herself knew the mystery of his past. Yet, even now, there's a lot that he doesn't know. Yet, thanks to widow, he also knows he isn't required to kill to feed. Widow's words echo in his head.

_“A... lapse in judgment. A stupid mistake.”_

What did he think, that, for a moment she cared more about him, that she felt _anything_ beyond what Talon told her to feel? Was she ever doing anything more than keeping an eye on him and manipulating him to get information out of him? Was that what she wanted? To know why he was out here, and what he had been doing and thinking about? Was that all that this was?

Did it matter now? She was dead.

Did it matter? He had cared about her, at least a little.

 

Ziegler and Morrison barely made it out of the building before the entire ceiling suddenly collapsed. Ziegler is in tears when suddenly a huge shadow cuts through the fog of the debris cloud ahead of them in the early morning haze. Alas, it isn't some magical teleportation, it isn't proof that Reaper escaped at all.

It's someone else altogether.

“...Seventy-Six and Doctor Ziegler... Didn't expect to see you here.” Her voice was thickly accented and heavy. About as heavy as the gun she's carrying. Zarya's impressive frame dwarfed the two and she looked past them to the building. “You were not our targets. What were you doing there?”

“What the hell are you doing, randomly blowing it up!? You could have killed us!” Jack said in a heated fury, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the massive Russian.

Zarya seems entirely unfazed by the display and half shrugs. “We tracked the terrorists to here. The building has been abandoned for a decade. No big loss.” She muses, glancing down at them and reaches down to Jack who is still in handcuffs. With no effort at all, she pries the cuffs open, then soon does the same to Ziegler. Both are left rubbing their wrists, but Mercy can't take her eyes off of the collapse. While she stares in obvious despair, Jack is more concerned about why the idea of the Russians almost killing them doesn't seem to bother Zarya even a little.

“How can you just stand there so calm!” he barks, and Zarya looks back at him, sighing.

“Listen, old man. We have job to destroy the building. To break Talon.” She shrugs again once more noncommittally, “So you happen to be inside.” She makes a strange, nonchalant face, “Lucky you lived, I guess.”

To which Jack can only stare, slack-jawed and equal parts confused and outraged. He wants to say more, but somehow he knows it wont get anywhere. Russian government has priority here, and if they decide that killing two Talon agents is more important than possibly saving the lives of two Overwatch agents... Well... Not that they knew they were in there, of course. This calms him somewhat.

“Look, we need an evac and -”

“Medical attention?” Another figure steps through the dust and smiles at him, her rifle slung over her back. “We've got you covered, Seventy-Six.”

“Horus.” He greets with a blatantly relieved sigh. They hug briefly before Ana steps back, glancing at Zarya, then back to the building. She notices Ziegler standing there and soon moves up to her. Wordlessly, her arm drapes across the doctor's shoulders in silent comfort, despite that she doesn't know the details of what happened. It's clear that she knew of the plan, all the same.

“Come on... We've got food and water for you back on the shuttle. Medicine too. All the comforts of home... Lets go, Angie. It's over now.” She comforts, and though Ziegler still weeps, it's quiet now. They turn and head back through the fog, disappearing from sight.

 

~

 

SEP has been shut down. It's a mandatory order. Too many lives have been lost in trying to make super soldiers. Its quiet and the lake is still, barely a sound can be heard on the dawn's chilled air. A breath breaks the air beside him, and Gabriel looks over. Jack is standing there. They've both come so very far since all of this, since the army, since SEP ever began. Both are stronger, rougher men than they could have ever imagined they'd be.

“Well what now, Gabe?” Jack asks, his voice sullen, hardened and worn from combat and loss. Gabriel looks back out across the lake. They're dressed in blue suits, pinstriped. Gabe holds a white rose that someone had given him at the ceremony that had taken place at five that morning, an honorary gesture. They still stand in the cemetery, an old, regal place for war veterans.

Every other SEP soldier is buried here, and this morning, they buried the last two, all except for Gabriel and Jack themselves, the only surviving members of the organization. The new headstones sit thirty paces behind them. In the SEP, everything started at five in the morning. In the beginning, every day, the mess hall had been packed wall to wall with hungry soldiers of every gender and size. As time went on, the numbers dwindled down, along with the laughter, and everyone, indeed everyone grew bigger. Their numbers thinned down to fifty, then twenty, then ten.

Now, it was two.

There is no word, no song, no activity that can console them over what they have seen and done. Captains they may have been, but that matters little now when they've no one left to command. Jack turns his head to Gabriel, and chestnut eyes stare back at him. They're thinking the same thing. They think that, through all of this, that the only reason they are still standing, that they survived at all... Was because of each other.

And that sooner or later, they would die too.

Almost seeming to read his mind, Gabriel looks away, back across the lake.

“Death comes for us all, Jackie.” He says, sighing.

“Is that it, then?” Jack asks, looking away as well. “Do we just... sit idly by, survive on our government funds, grow old together?”

A twitch curves Gabe's smile for a quick moment and he looks back at the blond beside him, thinking how far he's come from where he was before.

“Is that what you want, Jack? To grow old together?”

The pale hoosier smiles and looks back at him sadly. He turns to face him, and their arms come around each other. They kiss, but it's a sad, solemn thing. Gabe's forehead touches his.

“What do you want, Reyes?” He asks. “What are you going to do?”

For a long moment, Gabe is quiet, he reaches up and brushes the backs of his knuckles along the side of Jack's face, feeling the warmth of his skin radiate into them. It takes him a moment to think of what he wants, but when he speaks, it's casual.

“I'm going to go back home, Jackie. I'm going to go home. Hug Rosa. Spend some time finding my head. Then...” He pauses, words cutting off.

Blue eyes shift to meet his look, a hand lifts to tilt Gabriel's head back up so that their eyes lock.

Behind the stare, Jack can see something stirring. An old friend. That familiar hatred. That little, violent streak behind Gabriel's warm stare. “Then?” he asks.

“Then... I'm going after them. I don't care how, or where, but I will find them. I would rather die trying to end them than I would give myself over to old age. There is nothing that age can offer me now, Jack. Is there anything you would want more than to see them put down? Than to... to stop whoever did this?” His hand motions the cemetery where their friends are buried. “I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try... So that's what I'm going to do. Go home, get my bearings, then... Then maybe see about that meeting the UN is summoning us to. I know you said you might not go, but... I think you should. The world needs you, Jack...”

“I don't care about the world, Gabe.” Jack says, trying to get his point across, but Gabriel is either oblivious, or deliberately ignoring it.

“Don't say that.” he scoffed, brows lofting. “You're a hero, Jack. You've never cared about anything in the world more than you do the people in it.”

And while that was entirely true, Jack had come to learn, even if Gabe hadn't realized it yet, that there was in fact one person he loved more than anyone else in this world.

And he was standing right here in front of him. The one person who made him _want_ to give up this life, go hide somewhere and grow old together. Someone who made him feel selfish in his need for that simple, happy life, the idyllic daydream of them together somewhere, uninjured, untethered from everything but each other, happy and comfortable.

But as usual, Gabriel wasn't giving up the fight. Gabriel knew what he wanted in his life, and he'd known that from the day he lost Henrique, and he wasn't going to stop until that goal was met. He would die for it.

“And what about you?” Gabe asked. “Is this it for us, then? Are you going to go back to your cornbread dinners and farm houses back out in bumfuck nowhere, retire and take up some silly white-man hobby? Golf maybe?” the man teased, his smile even now making Jack's knees quiver.

“Fuck you, Reyes.” He scoffed back at him, kissing him deeply then, pulling him close and letting their tongues meet in a small, intimate dance. Then, Jack looked down and shrugged. “I go where you go, Gabe. There's nothing left for me anywhere else. No one to see. No home to go to. If you say we fight, then we go and fight. I'd rather die with you than live alone somewhere in peace.” he confessed. It made Gabriel chuckle again, leaning back and looking at him with slightly raised brows.

“ _Well now. That's quite a commitment, Jack. Fuck, why do you have to be so fuckin' dramatic all the time.”_ He sighed, eyes rolling, but he was smirking, and blushing. It was a rare treat to see Gabriel blush.

 

After that, they had parted ways for a short time. As promised, Gabriel took his government money and went back home to Los Angeles. He visited with Rosa, but ultimately, he packed up all of his cherished things, including his fatigues from SEP. Part of him just couldn't get rid of them. He also packed up the guitar, his beanie, his other cherished items, and after a month, he flew out.

 

The room he walked into was large, oval, archaic, lined with seats, marble flooring, a massive domed sunroof. There were people walking around, all in black suits with some kind of colored tie, no one seemed to even notice him or know who he was. Gabriel liked the anonymity, and took advantage of it, finding his way towards where he was meant to sit. When he arrived, he found a familiar blonde sitting in the seat next to his. Grinning, he couldn't help himself, reaching out and ruffling his hand through the finely combed, styled hair.

“Hey what's the big-” Jack started, only to glance over and see Gabriel there. His eyes lit up like lighthouses and he beamed, moving to stand, and the two embraced each other.

“I'm glad you decided to make it, Jackie. Corn didn't hold its sway over you after all?” He teased. Before they could say more, someone came over an intercom, announcing that they'd be starting soon. Both took their seats, and minutes later, the hall was packed full, every seat filled and quiet.

 

“The purpose of today's meeting is for the UN to acknowledge a new operative.

We're calling it, “ **Overwatch.** ””

 

~

 

Reaper feels older now than he has in decades. His body barely changes anymore, besides the rampant regeneration and decay between feedings, but somehow, the weight of the memories that come back to him distill in him a sense of age that he could ignore before. How many men had he watched die, and did it matter now? There was no existence in this world for him that didn't include even more death. He would have to come to terms with the fact that either he would live long enough to watch everyone he knew around him die, or he would have to be killed, somehow. Was it then even worth it to try and figure out the rest?

Did he even want to know the remainder of his past in light of what he'd already learned?

His mind drifted back, trying to sift through the haze as if it too had been cluttered with crushed debris from the collapse. How much did he care about Widow, actually? Was she worth him risking his life? What was she to him? Was she worth his loyalty to Talon?

For the moment, these were the most important questions, because they would determine what he did next. Planning had always been one of his stronger aspects, but when things like this happened, he was forced to improvise.

Widow had been his only friend since the days he woke up without any memories. She'd been harsh and emotionless with him at first, but over time that had changed. In their last few days here, she'd opened up and shared something of herself in a way she hadn't ever before. He had always known Gerard was a hard subject for her wince she first mentioned it, but she'd taken it upon herself to take him away from Talon, away from prying eyes to talk to him about it. He cared about her as a friend, he supposed. But, she was also a partner. They watched each other's backs, they kept one another alive when everyone else was trying to kill them. And romantically? Did he think of her that way at all?

No. That answer came to him immediately without any hesitation. Obviously she was a good looking woman with appeal and charisma, but he had never looked at her that way, and even now, after having done what he had with her, he couldn't see her as such. Especially not after she'd revealed it to mean just as little, if not even less, to her. A mistake. A game perhaps. A passing fling and little else. Not a romance. Not nearly as meaningful nor as impactful as the memories he had been having of Jack. Did Reaper love her? No. Would he be saddened without her? Of course he would. But she was dead now, in all probability. With his questions answered and a means to feed without Talon, he had no more use for them. Indeed, the only reason he might ally himself with them now was on the off chance that she had somehow survived. This week had proven that he did not need Talon to have his revenge on Overwatch. It was easier and quieter to move on his own, alone, without them, without eyes, without restrictions.

He had a chance to get away from all of that now and find his own way.

And Overwatch itself? What about his revenge to them? Morrison wanted him dead, but he had learned more about himself in the last few days than he had in months with Talon. Ziegler had said that if they could reclaim him... Reclaim him, like he had once _belonged_ with them. By her story, that was true. His memories seemed to suggest it was, despite that there were still quite a few gaps in it.

He had a few choices, he realized. It came down to one of three.

The first choice involved going back into the debris, looking for Widow until he either found her alive or found a body. It meant going back to Talon.

The second choice meant disappearing, abandoning his quest for his memories and his revenge entirely, and retiring somewhere to die or exist in relative peace. In loneliness.

The third and final choice... Well.

 

It was thirty minutes before Ana and Mercy arrived back at their drop ship. It wasn't especially large, only big enough for the few that had come along.

“The Russians had no way of knowing you were in there, dear. I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it.” the elder sniper was saying, her smile warm as they approached. “They only knew that Talon was here... I wouldn't be so hard on them. Jack got you out in one piece, yes?”

“No, Ana. _He_ let us leave... And we abandoned him in there. We could have gotten him, we could have-”

“ _Could have what, rescued me, Doctor?”_ The rattling, rasped, harsh voice came from inside the ship, and as the two women started, Angela found a shotgun pressed into her face. She staggered backwards into Ana, who already had her rifle leveled on Reaper. Jack, still several paces behind, arguing with government officials, was oblivious.

“Put it down, Gabriel.” Ana snapped, her eye still fierce after all these years. Seeing her in the flesh as opposed to behind her mask brought back a fond feeling that had no place in the current moment. “You're outnumbered and outgunned.” She warned. “You wouldn't make it ten feet.”

 _“And who says I want to escape, 'Horus?' The only indicator you need is that I haven't shot off her head yet.”_ And this caused them both some heavy pause.

“W-what do you want? How did-” He had survived? Ziegler seemed both relieved and terrified. But, here he was, with a gun in her face, seeming ready to make demands.

“And you better get on with it, before I get impatient.” Rumbled another, far threatening tone from just behind the two. Jack had arrived, and now wedged his way between Ana, Ziegler, and Reaper, despite that he had no weapon to defend them.

Beneath his mask, Reaper's eyes rolled.

“ _You just took my only friend from me, I would show a bit more gratitude that I haven't destroyed your only means of leaving.”_ he hissed venomously in reply.

“What do you want?” Ziegler said more firmly, cutting off their argument and regaining some of her hardy attitude. At once, the wraith's eyes leveled on her.

“What I've always wanted, Doctor. Answers.”

“What answers?! Stop playing your games! She answered all your contrived questions, Reaper!” Jack seethed, hands tightening into fists, his body primed to leap should the shade decide to pull the trigger, in order to save the two with him. Reaper composed his words carefully, sucking in a breath and exhaling a plume of acrid smoke into the air about him. Then, his arm shifted and came up, taking his gun off of them. At once, all three relaxed if only barely. Then, behind Reaper in the drop ship, a very large, very tensed Reinhardt loosened the hold on his massive hammer, glaring at them from the darkness. Reaper did not seem to have even known he was there.

“You said that the ambush was to save me. Why? What was it that convinced you there was anything you could do for me? Why did you think for even a moment that I needed to be rescued, and that I wasn't there of my own... volition?” He asked finally.

“ _There's a lot of us who think you were.”_ Jack all but whispered in rage, hands still in fists.

“But not enough to discourage you from trying, clearly.” He said, sharply turning his eyes on the the white haired soldier. “I'm here for answers. If you're not going to give them to me, then I'm leaving.”

“You mean you're not going to _kill us_ and then leave?” Ana snapped sharply, her voice full of attitude. It was clear she was skeptical of the view Ziegler seemed to have. Naturally, his attention moved over to her.

“I should have known you'd take _his_ side.” Reaper rasped.

“You never gave me much choice, did you?” She asked in return, just as quick. He supposed that was true, but it was because of her that the entire Overwatch company knew of his true identity, wasn't it?

“I suppose I should thank you, or else none of us would be here, isn't that true? I would ask why you are here, but then, the rest of your troupe weren't far away. Where are they now? Hiding? Did you think it was smart to blow up the only building these two were in? Wouldn't you have felt stupid if they died as well?” He almost mocked them, but he was cut off.

“ _We_ didn't blow up the building.” Reinhardt's voice was like a heavy, deep drum, or the snarl of a bear. “Russians did that. We were finding a more... peaceful way in.” Reaper had of course by this time wheeled, clearly startled by the sudden appearance of the big warrior.

“Peaceful.” Reaper echoed. “ _Right._ ”

“It's the truth.” Ana uttered at him.

“And that your insider died in your _last_ rescue attempt. Is that the truth, or another conjured lie to placate me?” He asked

No one replied for a long moment, looking at each other.

“We can't stay here.” Ana said finally. “The Russians will be on the move. We cannot afford to be seen in public with him.” She seemed to be speaking to everyone else, which upset the wraith. Seconds later, his gun was raised again, but as it was, Jack launched himself forward, abruptly tackling him onto the ground, his hand knocking away first one shotgun, then the other as it materialized in his hand. Then, Reinhardt stepped forward, hammer in hand. Reaper went to thrash, only to suddenly feel the sting of a needle. The drop ship door closed behind them, effectively locking him in with them. His limbs grew heavy, then he stopped entirely, going limp in Jack's grasp.

“What's it going to be, Reyes?” Jack asked, but Ana was leaning over him.

“Are you coming with us, or shall we drop you off at the next rest stop?” She asked almost condescendingly. The ship was already moving, already in the air, speeding away from the wreckage. His vision blurred, and then he lost consciousness entirely.

 

It didn't last long, but when he wakes, he's cuffed, sitting on the floor of the back of the ship, right against the airlock, and Ana and Jack are sitting across from him in drop seats. At once, he tries to wraith, but there's something about these cuffs that stops him, and he struggles briefly before growling. “What _are_ these? What have you done to me?!”

“Calm down. We haven't done anything. And, you might not want to try fleeing now. Somehow I doubt even you would survive a fall from fifteen thousand feet, wouldn't you agree?” Ana always had a calm, mother-like, but scolding tone about her words, as if she was disciplining a child. At the moment, he felt like one. “It's just a precaution. There will be no more guns for you, not for now, anyway.” The same cannot be said about Jack, who's wearing a fresh set of clothes and carrying a familiar pulse rifle like it's related to him. His blue eyes are glaring daggers into the pits of Reaper's mask.

“So let's try this again, shall we?” Ana continues. “Congratulations. You've been successfully rescued. But the choice is up to you, isn't it? You can't rescue someone who doesn't want to be saved. Are you going to sit and listen to what we have to say, or are you going to go... “ Her hand made a little walking animation across the air in front of her. “Running back to those little boys in black that call themselves Talon?”

Assessing his situation, he realizes that there is exactly no way that this can go good for him in any scenario. Going back to Talon wasn't a goal, but if he stayed, he could find out all he wanted to know about them. Perhaps the rest of what he wanted to know about himself... And if he didn't like what he found, he could always kill them later, after they trusted him perhaps. He could have smirked at the idea, but didn't.

“ _I suppose I'll listen then.”_

 _“_ Ah! Good, at least one of you two is acting like an adult.” She said, shooting a small glance at Jack, who then murmured.

“ _Still think we should just throw him out the airlock.”_

Ignoring him, Ana looks back to Reaper.

“Alright... So right now we're taking you to a secret facility. It isn't a prison, and you're not going to be treated like a prisoner, but, at least for a while, we have to watch you. You can't be trusted right now, can you? No, we don't think so either, but there are some of us who want to give you a shot.”

“Are you one of them?” He asked abruptly.

She paused, raising her brow slightly. “Oh, well, it's hardly up to me.”

“Isn't it? You seem to be in control of this entire thing.”

“Being the head of a rescue mission is not the same as calling the shots for Overwatch, Reyes. I trusted you of all people to know _that._ ” Her words carry a hidden bite to them and he snarls, eyes twisting to Jack, who says nothing.

“Answer me.” Reaper persists. She shrugs gently.

“I suppose I don't yet know. I know that the man I mourned would not have dreamed of doing some of the things you've done. But, I also know that if you were as heartless as it's assumed you are, you would not have saved your sniper friend, then raged when you saw her die. Oh, yes, Angela told me about that. She seems to think that if you can have feeling for her, that perhaps you're not entirely gone yet. I want to have hope that that is true. Whether or not you want to come back from where you are is another story entirely. Are you going to go back to Talon?” She asked bluntly.

“You expect him to tell you that?” Jack asked her, for a moment taking his eyes off of the shade. Ana shrugged.

“Jack, you cannot get anywhere by building a wall with no gate to pass through. I am extending him the opportunity to be forthcoming. It's more than anyone else has given him thus far. Why should he trust us to keep our word if we cannot show him even the courtesy of letting him speak?”

She fell quiet then, letting the shade speak. The sniper had a point, and her wisdom was not lost on him. Someone had to give him a chance.

“Talon has nothing for me.” he confessed at last. “You killed Widow. She was the only reason I might have gone back.”

“I was told that you came on this little vendetta of yours alone, without them. Why is that?”

“After you rescued Ziegler, Talon forced us to lay low for several months, they questioned our every activity, monitored our every move. But they did something that made me... _question my faith, so to speak.”_

“Oh? And what's that?” Ana spoke so casually, it was like she was talking about it over afternoon tea.

Did he want to say this? Did it matter? He was _not_ going back to Talon, so he didn't care what this company knew of them. “After you rescued Ziegler, Jack met us in a hallway... But he didn't kill me right away.” His eyes landed on the old Soldier, who was looking back. “I knew then that something was off. He could have taken the shot, could've killed me and her and one shot... But he didn't. He halted us, then we fought. I realized later that he had given me the chance to fight back. Why? If he truly wanted me dead, he wouldn't have hesitated.” He looked back towards Ana. “But that didn't stop him from lighting Widow up with bullets. Talon commanded me to abandon her. They told me to leave her, in favor of recovering Mercy. But... I could not bring myself to let her bleed out in the hallway. I moved her, bandaged her. It didn't take long, but it saved her life.”

This seemed to shake both of the soldiers before him, as they glanced at each other, but he didn't stop there. “I suppose I thought... that could have been me. They could have left me to wither in that hallway, and they would have if it furthered their objective.”

“And what brought you to want to save her?” Ana started, but before Reaper could reply, Jack interrupted.

“Oh that one's _easy_. He's _fucking_ her.” While Jack's eyes were leveled on Reaper, but Ana's head snapped between them. Jack didn't relent. “Don't act like you didn't know we knew that. I know your mind Reyes. I know you let us hear you on purpose. You may as well have been advertising it.” _Oh, someone was bitter. Oh, so, bitter._

If he had been in any other circumstance, Reyes might have smirked, even laughed, but now he only felt awkward. Ana did too, by the look on her face.

“ _That isn't why.”_ Reaper snapped after the moment of awkwardness had passed.

“Isn't it? Could have fooled me. You should have seen the way she came in after you had your little tantrum and ghosted out.” Jack spat venomously. It looked like they were about to get into another fight, but nothing happened, each holding onto their seats only barely. But... Now Reaper wanted to know how Widow had been. He ached for the answer. Could she have cared more about him than he realized?

Reaper turned his eyes back to Ana. “She was my friend.” he said finally. “She looked out for me, and I for her. It wasn't anything more than that.” He hissed. “I knew that if she died, all of the things I wanted would be a lot harder to get.”

“What things did you want? And... Do you think she would have done the same thing for you?”

“I told you what I wanted. Answers.”

“He acts like he doesn't remember.” Jack tried to explain, but his voice was heavy with skepticism. “He made Angela retell him his history with us. I don't trust this, Ana. He's giving us this all too easily.”

“I have _nothing_ to lose.” Reaper seethed back at him, the timbre of his voice was a warning, and his choice of words seemed indicative. Even Jack looked startled mildly, his brows lofting. Was Reaper ready to die? To be killed? Did Widow mean that much to him?

“Answer me. Do you think she would have saved you, too?” Ana asked, ignoring Jack.

Looking down, Reaper tried to piece it out, sucking in a breath. The answer his mind came to was not one he liked.

“No. Talon was her life. Her job. Her family. She would do anything and everything they asked of her. If they told her to leave me there to bleed out, she would have.”

“If you even could bleed out, of course.” Ana said, waving a hand, and he tipped his head with a nod. “But have you thought that perhaps the reason she might not have was because of your... Condition? Perhaps Widowmaker had great faith in your ability to recover.”

And perhaps that was true, but he'd never know, now.

Ana straightened and sighed, shrugging. “Well, this has been enlightening. And now that Talon no longer has you, and Widow is dead, what will you do with your life, hm? Wait for the right moment to kill us, or take your chances at finding the truth?” She posed, moving to stand as she looked at him.

His eyes followed her and he leaned back against the back wall of the ship.

_“I guess we'll find out, won't we?”_

Ana smirked and offered a faint laugh, her hand clasping onto Jack's shoulder as she passed him, pacing back to the front of the ship. “You see? He's still got his sense of humor.”

 

_I know  
That you're wounded. _

_You know  
That I'm here to save you. _

_You know  
I'm always here for you. _

_I know  
That you'll thank me later. _

 

This was it.

Reaper was going with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art raffle has ended!  
> http://trishields.tumblr.com/post/160380584592/hey-guys-have-some-lovely-reaper76-sep-days  
> This art went to avid reader, Easternlung. Congrats!
> 
> Song Lyrics By Three Days Grace - Pain
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!


	9. Euphoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Vomit, Injections, Drug Highs, graphic gore.
> 
> This chapter is't a super smutty chapter, sorry guys. Hope you like it anyway!

~

 

It's day one. The tarmac is roasting those few standing there in the heat, the sun baking down over them, making all of them squint except for one. How Reaper had ever forgotten this man's face was impossible to know, but now, he rather wished he could give it back.

“SUPERIOR OFFICER PRESENT. ATTENTION.” Barked someone in charge.

A man was stalking towards them. Large, round sunglasses covered his eyes and a military hat covered most of his buzz-cut, greying hair, casting a shadow over his chubby features. The man wasn't obese, but its clear that his days as a prime fighting specimen are long behind them. He's wearing green fatigues with so many metals pinned to his left chest pocket that Gabriel doesn't even know them all, and he's not given the chance to sort them out by the time the man is in front of them, speaking. The helicopter behind them winds down, its hum drowned out by this man's booming, grizzled voice.

“LISTEN UP, GENTLEMEN.” He yelled, making it difficult for anyone to actually relax. No one does of course, everyone assumes the typical A-framed stance with their hands clasped behind their back in perfect unison. The woman beside Gabe, Katie, hardly seems phased by the title. A few other women in their group are not so impassive, but they hold their gaze levelly upon the unknown man.

“My name is Colonel Walcott. Now we've got lots of lovely men and women inside the base,” he gestures back to a set of grey and white buildings behind him, all of them plain and almost completely devoid of windows. There's metal catwalk railings, security cameras, guard towers, round razor wire. It all has the look of a prison about it. Unwelcoming, but state of the art somehow. The paint and cement are all fresh, and despite standing a fair distant away, the scent of it still reaches his nostrils, as does the tar-stench that radiates upwards from the cooking tarmac beneath them.

“Doctors, scientists, surgeons, psychiatrists- whatever the fuck you need to get you back on your feet. They'll hold your hand and kiss your forehead, tell you everything's goin'ta be all right, and that you're doin' a fine ass job out here in the middle of bumfuck no where. Right? We've got all that. Well, Gentlemen, I'm sure you've heard this before, but just in case some of you lackeys have gotten lazy in the Army, let me reaffirm our beliefs here at the Soldier Enhancement Program. I am not your friend. I am not your daddy. I am not going to hold your hand and coddle you through training. I'm not going to stand here and tell you that none of you are going to die. I'm not going to tell you that you're going to make an impact. I'm here to try and teach you new rookies how to stay alive when facing more than just human targets. I'm here to tell you that you'll all try, and that if you die, the cost will be worth the victory! I'm here to tell you that if you weren't here, some weaker, pathetic lackey would be standing in your place, and he would let this nation down!” The man has begun to pace back and forth in front of the line, sizing up each soldier as he passes. Each one grows slightly more tense and stiffens under his scrutinizing glare. “Now, lets get one thing right here, kids!” A strange thing to hear from a man who just claimed not to be a daddy. “I don't care if you're a man, woman, tall, short, fat, black, white, purple or a rooster riding a donkey all the way home,” That that to be the single most obscure homosexual reference Gabe had ever heard in his entire life. He was instantly sure it would stick with him. “But while you're _here_ you're Soldiers. You're MEN, and while you're here, you're _all_ Gentlemen. That's what I'll be calling you from here on out, so you'd best get used to it, _ladies._ I'm not going to wipe your tears or hand you a tissue when things get dirty or painful. You know why you're here. You signed up for this. You decided at some point that the military wasn't doing you any more favors, or maybe some of you thought you'd play hero and come along for the ride, right? Well here we go, boys. Welcome to the S E P. I want each of you to look at the person next to you.”

They do, and Gabriel looks to Jack, only to see he's looking the other way. His eyes turn the opposite way, landing on Katie, who's staring up at him. She's on the end of the row, so he's the only one she can look at. She's got to be no taller than five-foot-four, but there's no timidness in her gaze. The Asian's eyes are sharp, especially long, dark eyelashes even without makeup on. Her eyes are so dark brown that they're almost black. Her face seems incapable of smiling, like it might break in half if she does. It's a quality that she and Gabe both share. Her hair is kept pulled back in a low ponytail, black and groomed, reaching about mid back. Freckles dot across the bridge of her nose.

“This person is going to become your partner for the next several months! You will eat, sleep, breathe, fight, break and cry within the vicinity of this person. You will do everything with them except shit and bathe, and at the end of those two weeks, this person will be your brother. You will do absolutely anything for them. You will die for them, if you need to. Do we understand each other? Now, you'd best get yourselves acquainted now. You've got a few minutes. Then, when our head Researcher gets here, she'll be giving you all a tour of the facility. Once you've had your tour, you'll be briefed on your daily routine, and you'll be sent to your quarters. Tomorrow, you start. Welcome to hell, Gentlemen.”

The man then turned away. He wasn't especially tall, Gabe imagined he had a few inches on him, but like hell if he didn't feel intimidated, and that was rare considering how nullified Gabe had become in the last few years. Death had a way of making people pretty immune to some things, and he'd only gotten more of it since he had joined up after Henrique's death.

“Katie Hall.” She introduced herself, extending her hand. He extended his and found himself surprised by her grip, and the calluses that her palm seemed to have.

“Gabriel Reyes.” He replied before releasing her, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“So why'd you do it?” She asked, looking away at the Colonel's back as he's heading into the base. “Sign up, I mean.”

“Wha- oh.” Gabe shrugged. “I didn't get involved in the military to fight men. The ones I want are made of metal and don't station themselves in the middle east, or wherever they were going to send us.” He explained. “When I heard there was an opportunity, however dangerous, to try and tackle the omnic threat... Well. That was all I needed.”

“Sounds bloodthirsty.” Said another voice. This one was only slightly smoother than the Colonel's voice, and it came out of that blonde bombshell to his left.

“John Morrison.” He said, sticking out his hand. “Most call me Jack, though.”

“Jack.” Gabe said, a brow lofting. He shook his hand too, it was as rough as his, and just as strong. “What, was John just too popular for you?” He half teased.

Jack uttered a half laugh. “Nah. Old nickname. Too many John's in the neighborhood. Everyone just started calling me Jack. It stuck, I guess...” He trailed off, and they all did. Someone else was approaching them. She was a thin woman with long legs, and her ethnicity was hard for Gabe to pick out. Philipino? Maybe Indian? She had ultra dark black hair, straight as pins that hung no lower than her chin at any point. Her eyes were a bright green, giving away that she wore contact lenses. She wore grey slacks, a white dress shirt and a long white lab coat with a name tag he couldn't yet read. There was a notebook tucked under one arm with a stack of papers and a manila folder. Everyone had stopped talking by the time she stood in front of them.

“Recruits, attention, please.” She did not command authority the way Walcott had, but she had an air of smarts around her that made everyone respect her at once. “My name is Head Researcher Dana Kalawai'i.” Ah, Hawaiian. That seemed to soothe Gabe's need to know. “I will be the person overseeing your enhancement. Come with me. I'll speak while we walk, so listen up.” She was already heading back towards the compound. Only her voice and the sound of their boots on the fresh asphalt were caught in their ears.

“Enhancement is done in a series of injections. Injections take place once every two weeks, and you will receive a total of six, if you make it that far.”

“ _If?”_ someone else in their group said. They reached the doors, tall black windowless steel doors and went inside. Within, everything was a sterile white. The walls, the linoleum floor. The floors were marked with dashed and solid lines, almost like miniature roads with arrows in colors, leading in various directions. A legacy along the wall on one side just inside the doors had locations listed in the colors of the lines. Green: Mess Hall. Purple: Quarters. Blue: Auditorium. Red: Medbay. Orange: Training facility. There were a few others, but they barely mattered for the moment. She was leading them through the area as she spoke.

“Yes. If. The injections aren't for everyone. Sometimes they have a negative reaction with the body. Sometimes it's immediate. Sometimes it's delayed. But... Often times, we can catch the symptoms before they get any worse.”

“Worse? What can we expect to... experience?” A rough looking man with brown hair barked. The researcher silenced him, raising her hand.

“Usually nothing more than a bit of nausea, anxiety, the shakes. Some lose their ability to regulate their bladder. Others are a little more... intense.” She offered vaguely. “But I assure you, we have the highest quality of medical staff to tend to your illnesses, as well as your injuries you attain in training.”

Training, they would later discover, could be almost or just as deadly. As they passed through the mess hall, they found the room packed with bodies, everyone dressed in black. Some of these people were huge, bulging beasts that he wasn't sure he would have called human if he'd seen them from the back. Naturally, all of the new recruits went quiet upon spotting them, not wanting to call attention to themselves, but that didn't stop the advanced soldiers from eyeing them up like fresh meat. Indeed, they looked like they might just eat the new recruits. By the scars that some of them had, Gabriel had to wonder if they hadn't also tried to eat each other. At the end of the tour, she turned to face them and confirmed room listings with everyone. As expected, Gabriel was roomed up with Katie. Everyone in the line was given a set of camouflage fatigues in varying shades of black, and upon each one, on the top left breast, just above where their medals might go if any of them had any, their first initial, last name, and their Soldier number embroidered in grey thread. With his shoved into his hands, Gabe looked down.

 

**G. Reyes**

**75**

 

It wasn't especially fancy, but he supposed it didn't have to be. He glanced right at Katie as she looked at her own. K. Hall. Number seventy four. There was nothing fancy about it. No medals, nothing from their prior ranks from wherever they'd all been recruited from. Just another name, another number on a list. Before Reyes could dwell on it too much longer, they were escorted to their rooms. All of the new recruits were placed along a few different halls, hardly more interesting than a very plain hotel corridor. Less interesting, in fact. There was no patterned carpet, no dime-store wall paintings, no cheap elevator music, hell, there wasn't even the faintly reassuring odor of tobacco from cheap cigarettes. He was sure some people were pleased with that. Instead, white walls everywhere, and grey doors. Over the top of each door, a room number. There was a light just beneath that that was either red or green. All of them were green currently as the doors were all unlocked. Beside each door, there was a small placard with slide-in cards for names and a hand scanner that acted as a lock, along with a keyhole for a master key, which none of them held. Katie and Gabe's names were on this room. At the end of the hall, however, there was a room door of a different color, bright blue.

“Team Captain's quarters. You'll meet them tomorrow.” Dana has said, making sure everyone got their hands scanned in correctly so that they could both lock and unlock their doors.

“Them? What do you mean?” Gabe asked.

“Two, Mr. Reyes.” It was strange to him to not hear 'recruit' or some kind of rank next to his name. SEP wasn't going to be exactly like the Army, it seemed. “Your batch will be separated into two teams tomorrow. Ten with ten. You two will be on the same team together. These two teams will train together, face off against each other and other teams in the facility. Those teams are lead by Team Captains.”

“Other teams, you mean more advanced soldiers? People further up the line?”

“Only if they prove strong enough to be worthy of the challenge, Reyes. At first, you'll face each other, at least until you all even out and start being strong enough to compete with the others. Right now it would be a joke to-”

“Hey now,” Katie cut in. “No need to be rough, Researcher. Everyone in our group was selected from the top of our ranks!” But, Dana gave her a sharp look.

“Yes, Miss Hall. And so were they. So was everyone who's ever been here, including me. Including the Colonel. Everyone. Perhaps tomorrow you'll have a chance to see the full spectrum of skill difference for yourself.” She spoke smartly, almost harshly, but kept her tone curt. “For now, get some rest. As you were debriefed earlier, your day starts at zero five hundred. Breakfast is no longer than twenty minutes.kj Then, you warm up. Stretches. Weight training, that sort of thing. Then, around eight hundred hours, you start mission training. The time on that can vary. Every night, two people from your batch will be chosen to run a night patrol of eight hours. It will always be two partners, so if you get picked, you go together.”

“Researcher?” Katie cut in.

“Yes, Miss Hall?”

“This... wasn't really addressed but... What about contact to the outside? Phone calls, family, visits? Home time?”

For a long moment, Dana was quiet, looking down, then back at Katie.

“The SEP is a highly experimental program, Miss Hall. As such, it is classified.”

“But it isn't military.”

“No, it isn't. I suppose you could think of it as _above_ military. Covert ops. Secret soldier type thing.” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “All calls in to and off of the base are recorded. You are allowed a single call once every month, no longer than five minutes. No visits, and nothing of what we do here or train for can be discussed. You will be told when you're allotted time is scheduled for.” Dana explained, and Katie nodded wordlessly. Dana hadn't said what might happen should either of them break those regulations, and though they were both morbidly curious, neither was brave enough to ask.

“Researcher?” Gabriel asked, and though she looked exasperated, she looked at him, waiting his question.

“Weak calls home, minutes to eat, nauseating injections... Next you'll tell me we're not allowed to send letters home or have a smoke.”

“... The military should have cleaned you of your smoking habit, Reyes. Yes, I've read your file. Alas, we're not the military. If you smoke, you're given two cigarettes. Two, for the day, and that's all... It's important to note that in this facility, there is a no tolerance policy. If you want to smoke, you'll have to go onto the catwalks. After a few months, we'll stop providing them entirely. You should try to wean yourself.”

“What? I... No... I mean. I just... Have one now and then. I'm not a smoker- you're serious? No letters home?” Reyes stammered. He could care less about the smokes.

She fixed him with a pointed glare, her head tilting.

“Reyes. What do you suppose the omnics would do to this facility, if they learned where it was kept, and what we were doing here? What do you suppose they might do to your family members if they knew they were connected to you?” she paused, letting that sink in. “No, Reyes. No letters. Few, monitored phone calls... It isn't to keep you controlled, either of you,” She looked between Katie and he.

“It's to keep you, and them, alive... For as long as possible, anyway. Goodnight, Soldiers.”

Dana turned left then, and they entered their room, silent and contemplative. The weight of what they were getting into settled heavily on their shoulders. The room itself was a small thing. There was a tiny couch with an equally small holo-tele in front of it, one of the world's newest, latest inventions. On the back wall there were two doors, leading to bedrooms, and wedged between them, a tiny bathroom with a shower and a toilet and sink, hardly a cozy place. The floor was carpeted in dark blue plush that looked as though it might have once been soft. Now? It looked moderately crushed, like it had already been trod a fair amount. Reused rooms were no problem if they were clean, in Gabe's mind, but by the make of it, he could tell that all of the rooms were more or less cookie-cutter copies of this one. He began to feel like a number. Seventy-five, to be specific.

 

~

 

Reaper stirs awake. He doesn't know how long he's been out, but he's still in the back of the carrier. While he's not alone, Ana and Soldier have both left him, and he can hear their distant voices up near the front of the ship. His eyes adjust to the dimly lit area before he lifts his head.

Pulsing bright green lights catch his attention first, but the angular, iconic V of Genji's mask is not focused upon him, but rather, fixated upon someone else, someone much... closer. Reaper finds himself spying on what he might have considered an affectionate exchange. The ninja sits at the side of the doorway into this room, but Angela is with him, her legs lightly draped over his, she leans against him. They're murmuring quietly to each other, and though there are other's voices further up in the ship that drown out whatever the couple are saying, Reaper can tell that she's being comforted, especially by the way his arm is draped around her middle, mildly tugging her closer to him.

Unquestionably, he'd been afraid that he would lose her.

They both seemed to notice that Reaper had come awake then, and though Genji doesn't make expressions, Reaper can tell that there's only so much meditation that can help Genji for whatever rage he must be feeling in these moments. Seeing Angela there, hurt, hungry, having thought he lost her, then knowing that her near-killer, her torturer was sitting there in the very room with them, more or less under their protection, as their _willing_ captive... And that she had been one of the ones to make that happen. It must have been agonizing.

Well... Willing enough. Reaper would wait to see how long this little arrangement would last. Sooner or later it would serve his needs, he thought. His body has begun to ache from the seated position he's in and the way his hands are cuffed behind him, his shoulders twinge with pain and his spine is stiff. Still, though he doesn't know how, he knows that there's no escaping them so long as they're on, having already tried that trick earlier. He looks away from the two, saying nothing. He hadn't even known Genji was on the ship. Really, it spoke volumes about the cyborg's stealth, but he wasn't about to pass him the compliment here, certainly not now.

He let his eyes close again, trying to rest up whatever energy he could to pass the time.

It's hours later when they arrive. Reaper is awoken with a slight tap to his hood, and subsequently, his mask. It's the tip of Ana's sniper rifle.

“It's time to move, I'm afraid. You can sleep later.” The others are all there, standing. The looks on their faces are mixed or forced expressionless. No one trusts him, as he supposed they shouldn't. Coming to his feet, his body whines with complaint, causing him to groan. He turns to face the wall he'd been leaning against; the ship's door. It unlocks with a heavy clunk and the sound of escaping air before it opens.

Its night time now, and the air is chilled, making him shudder under his coat. Not as cold as Moscow, to be sure, and there's no snow to speak of, but still a far cry from the warmth inside the ship. At once, he glances skyward, trying to gather his bearings by the stars, but he fails. Astronomy wasn't exactly a hobby. Hell, it was barely more than a class in college he'd been required to take. All he can tell is that it's near two in the morning if he had to guess, and that it's a full moon.

White-silver light bathes over the base they've brought him to. It's not their main base. Of course it isn't. It's another hub. This one looks like it's made for research. There's a few flat buildings, a water tower, and a set of glass domes that resemble a greenhouses. It doesn't look like a military base of any kind. More like a college campus. The scent of salt and sand drifts into his mask, giving away that they're near an ocean. He can hear the crushing waves behind them, behind the ship, down over the edge of a cliff that he can't see in this darkness. He can make out the silhouette of a tropical treeline just behind the base, deepening into hills. The landing pad they stand on is paved, but it's pale, like cement as opposed to tar. It leads into a set of low-profile hangars, none of which they're heading to currently. Instead, he's lead away down a path paved with white stone masonry, and whenever he thinks to stop or slow, he finds something cold and angular shoved lightly against his spine.

“ _Keep moving, Reaper.”_ Jack growls venomously. Apparently he's taken it upon himself to be the shade's personal warden.

Reluctantly, Reaper obeys, for now, soaking up everything that he can from what he can see. Well maintained lawns, white walled buildings, blue windows, the swaying palms that seem crammed decoratively into the corners. Some of them are naturally occurring, he can tell by the way they're slightly crowded, too much so to have been done so intentionally. In the day, he can imagine the facility looks stunning, like a small resort. Why would they bring him here?

Suddenly, he's greeted by a pair of tall glass doors with black frames and everyone pushes in past them with next to no hesitation. Inside, it's almost like a reception center... No.. it _is_ a reception center. There's even hours listed on one of the glass walls. Pamphlets. His confusion must be obvious, because one of the others nudges him again.

“You'll get to look around tomorrow, Reyes. For now, bed. Everyone's exhausted.” Ana says. So far, she's the only one who sounds casual and confident when she speaks to him. “For now...” She glances at the others, and Reinhardt steps forward.

“Leave him to me. I will show him where he sleeps.” The monolithic man offers. Ana smiles and dips her head.

“Very well. You'll need this.” She fishes something out of her coat and passes it subtly to the gentle giant. Reaper isn't quite able to make out what it is before he's being steered away.

Then, as was to be expected, they find their way to an elevator that takes them straight down longer than he cares to admit. No one else has come this way. It's a detail that Reaper noticed immediately. Obviously they were housed elsewhere, which begged the question then, where was Reinhardt leading him? As they stand in the elevator together, Reinhardt tries to make chatter.

“So this is it, is it? All your meddling to end up back here?”

Reaper's head snaps towards him, feeling his eyes narrow beneath his mask.

“ _Are you issuing a complaint, Reinhardt?”_ Reaper asks tersely. While he doesn't recall the man personally, if what Mercy has told him is true, he once worked along side the man well. All the same, the media had no problem touting the Knight's successes, so that this point, Reaper knew him well enough to know his name, and his general... Theme, as it were. The lion of a man glances down at him with a small huff.

“ _Hardly_. I'm one of the people who urged them to give you a chance. Perhaps you'll remember that if I have to come between you and the rest of the 'watch.” he warns. Reaper offers no reply, instead looking away. Maybe if this all panned out, some day he'd thank him, assuming he didn't die in the crossfire... And if he did? _No matter._

The elevator opens to a circular room. The ceiling is inset with sunken lights that glow moon-blue, causing small beams to shine down from above. It vaguely makes Reaper feel like he's under water by the way they shimmer and never quite remain static in their glow. But in the middle of this room like a foyer, there's a circular planter, its edges carved into cement benches, padded with soft cushions in dark blue. The planter itself is filled to the brim with even more tropical fauna, and the trees growing within it only partially obscure the wall directly opposite of the elevator. That wall, he realizes, is a large screen of sorts, he's vaguely reminded of a small theater screen. Currently it's showing a world map, flashing blue, yellow and red pings around the globe. A small panel on the right side of it offers up controls for what it shows. But, Reinhardt doesn't wait for Reaper to be done gawking. He instead moves off, canting his head towards a hallway that branches off from the middle of the right wall. Reaper soon learns that a hallway almost identical to this one branches off from the left wall as well. Both are illuminated in blue, and lined with doors.

“These are... _all_... rooms?” Reaper asked, taken slightly aback by the number of them. His awe does not go over Rein's head. “What _is_ this place?” More importantly, why is it so well taken care of, and why does it remind him of an ant hive?

“They are.” The brute replies. “A lot of people used to live here.” he waves one of his hands nonchalantly, something Ana had done too. Reaper begins to understand that it's something they do when they don't want to tell him something, but don't want to seem like they're keeping it from him. Reaper takes the cue not to ask any more. He'll learn more tomorrow, maybe. Finally, they stop at a door after a few turns and at the far end of a hall. It's the very last room. Reinhardt finally reveals the small item that Ana has given him. It's a room key, a card.

“You're not putting me in a prison?” Reaper asks skeptically. The large man's head turns and he smirks faintly.

“Would you rather?”

“No.” Reaper barks indignantly.

“ _Then don't give us a reason._ ” He replies, opening the door and letting Reaper in.

The room is rectangular with pale grey walls that look white with the same moon-blue lighting. The far wall from the door supports a fake window, another light-up screen with a similar panel on the right side, but it's showing a peaceful beach scene instead, rolling waves, accompanying sound. There's a bed pressed against the left wall and a dresser directly across from it. There's two doors on the right wall, one that leads into a fresh, cleaned bathroom, an the other to a small walk-in closet.

 _None of this matches Reaper's aesthetic at all, and he's overly bothered by it. The blue, the lights, the tropical atmosphere..._ Sure, it's beautiful, but part of it makes his skin crawl. Perhaps he'd prefer the prison after all. Why is this all here? Whatever could all these rooms be for, and why is Overwatch here? Surely they're not this big in number, and never had been. As this occurs to him, he realizes that Reinhardt is talking.

“This is the only chance you're going to get. If you're _actually_ serious about... any of this, you'll be careful. You'll behave. Reyes- are you even listening?” he interrupts the shade's thoughts. Reaper turns, facing him. The knight continues. “It would be wise to watch yourself. To be open minded. To try and find trust-”

“ _Just as you're trusting me? Putting me here in this room, under surveillance, threatening me, making sure I know nothing?”_ His voice drips with pure sarcasm.

This gives Reinhardt some pause, however. His head tilts and he moves forward, producing the keycard. He uses it then to unlock the cuffs at Reaper's wrists, then stuffs it away. The shade's hands fall forward and he immediately rubs at his shoulders and neck, spine stretching. He's tempted to wraith and rush the door.

“Don't be stupid.” Rein growls, seeing the look. “You wouldn't even make it out of the hallway. The surveillance is just for a while. As is the escort.” But Reaper isn't so sure. He didn't see a turret, he didn't see cameras... But, that didn't mean they weren't there. He realizes that even if they're not there, Reinhardt is talking about _himself_ being the stopping force. He's a big obstacle, and though the hallways and door frames are massive enough that he doesn't even need to bend to get through them, Reinhardt is fast. The walls are thick, and vents are next to impossible to find. Indeed, he hasn't seen a single one of them yet. He understands then that the elevator is the only way in and out of this part of the facility. He's more or less trapped.

“How long?” Reaper growls, not much liking the idea of being locked in, but to a degree, he can understand. An escort, however? That would be beyond obnoxious. Who would be escorting him?

Reinhardt is already walking away, standing at the door and pressing his hand to the door frame. Glancing over his shoulder, the old knight regards Reaper. There's something uncertain in his tone, almost like sadness.

Worry.

_“As long as it takes... I hope Angela is right about you, old friend.”_

The sentiment alone is enough to take Reaper aback. He says nothing more and the door is shut and locked behind Reinhardt. The wraith remains standing there for a long moment before he turns away, his mind deep in thought.

Could this be more than what he thought it would be? Could they be as honest as they seemed? Did they _really_ want to help him here? _Could they_ help him, and _did he want them to?_

He came here to get the last of his answers. His memories. To find a way back to some sense of normalcy. To bridge the gap between Gabriel Reyes and Reaper, and to find out what happened to him.

Talon promised to do that, then failed.

Widow was dead, and there was no reason for him to go back there now.

But... Overwatch? Could they get him that, and if they did, what would he do afterwards? What would he do with that information once he had it?

...Could they answer the question that had come up in his mind about _Jack Morrison?_

Reaper turned and disappeared into the bathroom, quick to disrobe and drop himself into the hottest tub of water he could manage, not wanting to dwell on the memory anymore. Jack. Another, unforseen obstacle. Was he, too, a mistake? Reaper dunked his head beneath the surface of the water, closing his eyes. He needed it to clear his head, to work the pain out of his body as much as he was able.

 

For now, he decided to put his more violent, vengeful plans on hold.

_Just until he found out what this was._

 

~

 

Everyone's nervous, and they have every right to be. If the rumors are true, the injection days are dreadful, terrible, and half the recruits don't make it more than a few weeks. The 'veterans' of the program, no more than a few months older than they are, talk about some of the more violent of the drug's side effects. Seizures, internal bleeding, blindness, moments of sheer madness, hallucinations, nightmares. Some are left traumatized. And some... Well. Others allege that whole limbs just... rot off.

So here they all stand in lab gowns, two weeks into their arrival at SEP. No one seems even minorly concerned that they're all naked beneath their gowns. Most have lost their shy nature at this point. Katie stands beside Gabe, her eyes sharply primed on the medbay doors. They're all lined up outside of it, and Jack's on the other side of him, talking to his partner, a guy that Gabe's learned is named Kelly. Kelly seems eager, almost to the point of cockiness. Jack smirks at him and laughs.

“All these other people made it. I'm sure it'll be fine.” He muses, but Gabriel and Katie look at each other with unsure expressions.

“What do you gather of all this?” Gabe asks in a quiet tone, trying to look inconspicuous, but in the last few days, he's learned a lot of her history, her body language. Katie's from a very traditional Japanese home, despite that she was raised in the states. Contrary to the stereotypical belief, Katie's terrible at math, and abhors the idea of working in some doctor's office somewhere. Always wanted to be out in the field somewhere. Like Gabriel, she once had aspirations of being a cop. Like him, she decided that omnics were the stronger threat. About the only thing she had on her that did seem to line up with the 'Japanese aesthetic' was that she knew how to use a sword, not that they'd ever let her do so here. In the last few days, she'd developed blisters on her hands and feet from their tactical gear and the grip of a rifle. They all had, at least, those who didn't have them already. Gabe's hands are a little more callused, but even he can feel the ache in his body.

“I _gather_ that no one actually knows what the fuck is going on.” Katie utters sharply under her breath, her deep brown eyes flicking from person to person, eventually landing back on Gabe. “They're all acting tough shit, like they've all been through this before. It keeps them from pissing themselves. The bottom line is, everyone's afraid. They've all seen what these drugs can do to them if they work, if they survive them... But no one wants to talk about the fact that there used to be twice as many soldiers as there are now. What happened to the rest of them?” She pauses, looking away. “I don't think this is all legal. That's why we're not allowed to phone home about it. Above military? My ass. This is a private company, I'd bet. Some under-cover operation that's not technically sanctioned. Some experimental volunteer job. Face it, Reyes...” She looks back at him, and he glances down at her. The smile she wears is faint and horrifying. “We've joined a cult.” And they both smirk at each other. He understands her perfectly.

Minutes later, they're all filed in. The med bay has been rearranged. The beds are all lined up in the middle of the room, side by side in pairs of two. Each one is equipped with restraints. There's buckets beside every bed, and machinery for monitoring them. Along the left wall, there's a counter, and upon each one is a set of needles, pre-filled, waiting for use.

Gabriel an Katie are slipped into their set of beds and strapped in. Once the feel of the cold leather and metal bindings hits him, he knows he's never going to get used to this. A dreadful feeling sinks into the pit of his gut. Attendants are everywhere, swarming, making everything more confusing. The two look at one another, and on the opposite side of him, Jack looks over.

“Well.... Good luck, I guess.” Says the gruff sounding blond.

“See you on the other side, Gabe.” Katie says, letting her eyes shut beside him. She doesn't want to be awake for this.

Then, before he realizes it, it's happening. An attendant has come up to the side of his bed and they're running needles under his skin in his upper left arm. He can feel them prick into him, and closes his eyes too. Unfortunately, no sleep ever comes. He was hoping that they'd all be put under for this, but minutes into the experience, he learns that's not going to happen.

As attendants work down the line, Gabe feels the drugs take over him. When his eyes open again, everything is blue in one eye and red in the other. His ability to focus is there, but he can't control it. Eyes dart back and forth, catching first on nothing, but then tracking wildly, like he's following something that isn't there. Muscles strain against his bindings, he can feel them tighten up so much that they ache. An explainable shudder rolls through his frame, followed by goosebumps. A sense of nausea hits him then, and before he can even turn to lean towards his bucket, there's three other guys already retching their breakfast into their own.

He follows suit, as does Katie, and soon Jack there after. Pain starts to radiate outward from the injections and he twitches, glancing, trying to see what was going on there. What he sees startles him. There's blisters at the injection site, a prickling of flesh, the peach fuzz of his skin has fallen out. His toes... He suddenly realizes he can't feel them anymore, and his eyes still maddeningly track, landing on nothing... No... Not nothing.

Dust.

His eyes are focusing on _dust_ drifting around the room. It's all still red and blue, but at least now he can make out the tiny fibers he's catching onto. It looks a lot like glitter. Beside him, Katie is doing the same. She smirks grossly at him and actually laughs.

“What do you think of this, Gab-” But, then she's retching again, and he looks away.

 

Suddenly, from nearby, someone is screaming.

Not merely groaning, but screaming. A blood curdling sound that makes all the recruits jolt and panic. Gabe's head twists towards the sound.

It's Kelly. He's just on the other side of Jack, and though Gabe can barely see it, he can make out what's making the man scream. For all his cocky attitude prior, nothing can make up for what he's seeing now.

Where most of the other's are blistering and rashing around the injection sites, Kelly's flesh seems to be just _melting_ off. He can see the skin flap openly then sag. It liquefies, and a large chunk of it falls completely off, into the bucket. Jack and Gabe both suddenly realize that that's why the buckets are actually there. Kelly's muscle is laid bare, exposed to the open air, screaming with pain. He's thrashing in his bindings now so forcefully that they cut into his ankles and wrists.

“SEDATE HIM!” Yells one of the head attendants, and suddenly his bed is swarmed, cutting off their line of sight to the man.

Then, two other men are screaming, far down at the end of the hall. Gabe can see the bone on one of them, the skin and muscle sagging away, making sickening sounds as it splats into the bucket. He feels his stomach wrench again and he looks towards his own arm in mild panic. Everyone else in the room is doing this just about now. Luckily, he's still... intact. Nothing's melting away or rotting off, but he's in one piece. Both he and Katie glance at each other. Beside him, Jack's panicking. “KELLY!” He roars, wanting to do something, wanting to help, but he's just as chained down as the rest of them. The attendants are now wheeling out the three affected recruits, curtaining them off and quelling them into silence with the sedatives. The aroma of urine saturates the room. More than a few of the soldier's have wet themselves in sheer panic and fear. Nurses rush to reassure and aid, but after a few minutes, Gabe's nerves take over him. He's screaming in raw terror, as is Katie, and just about everyone else in the room. The sound of it reminds him oddly of a dog's kennel house. It's horrifying and wicked, and within minutes, he's passed out with the exertion, his vision turning black, his body losing consciousness.

 

Hours later, he rouses. White hospital lights burn into his eyes. He's still laying in a bed, in his gown. A silhouette blurs into his vision and then interrupts the light that makes him squint.

It's Katie. She smiles at him. “Hey gorgeous. You're looking fantastic.” She teases, but he knows without looking that her tone suggests utter sarcasm. Finally, his eyes focus on her.

Her skin is patched with bruising, red and purple splotches coloring her flesh in the most bizarre markings he's ever seen, and she's dressed in her black fatigues. _K. Hall. 74._ She hands him a mirror. Reluctantly, he reaches up to take it, realizing suddenly that he can actually move his wrists, but the movement makes his body groan with the effort.

Looking into the mirror, he can see that he, too, is patched all over like some kind of fucked up jigsaw puzzle.

“ _Fucking lovely.”_ He sighs, handing it back and looking at her. “How the hell can you even _move, Hall?_ Why _would you even want to.”_ He said, reaching back and shoving himself into an upright position. There's a few other people in the hall, but one figure sticks out to him. He's at the end of the hall, away from everyone else, bound down in straps meant for combative patients. The man's back is turned to them, his head bowed, pressed against his pillow, but Gabe can see a hint of blond hair.

Jack.

He's barely moving enough to be breathing. Kelly is no where to be found.

Gabe looks back at Katie.

“How long have I been out?”

“Long enough, Tacos.”

“Long e- what?” His chestnut eyes narrow at her. “Did you just-”

“Tacos. You kept goin' on about them in your sleep.” She smirks, chuckling at him and offering him a hand to help him up. “Should have figured that'd be your first love.”

“Fuck you.” The Mexican trolls back at her, but their teasing is made fondly. He takes her hand and moves to stand, but he feels wobbly and catches himself on her shoulder. “Don't you have sit-ups to be doing or _something?_ ” he asked.

“Not on injection days. We're suppose to be eating. But you have to get dressed first.”

“W-What?”

“Eating. Apparently, after the injections, our bodies are dehydrated and malnourished. On top of that, we're growing, so we have to eat. Also, you're still naked.” She points at his hospital gown.

“Growing- what like...?”

“You think those veterans were that big when they got here?” She asks, and then it dawns on him. She smiles. “No, they're beefing us up like we're fucking _mon-stars.”_

 _“Oh my god, Hall. Don't ever make a Space-Jam reference again.”_ Gabriel groans. That was one classic he'd much prefer stayed dead. But, Katie is laughing. This is the happiest he's seen her ever since they met. Finally they're moving off and she helps him back to their room, but by the time they arrive, he no longer needs her help. His body feels stronger, suddenly energized, and god, was he _ever_ starving.

Back in their room, he throws on his fatigue pants and a black T-shirt emblazoned with his number on the top left chest, slides on a belt with a heavy rectangular silver buckle. “God.” He says to her as she waits. “I feel like I need to run.”

“We're going to.” She promises.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Eating. Running. Jumping. Can't you feel it? I need to just _go._ ” She says almost excitedly, it's becoming obvious that the drugs have made them almost euphoric. He can feel the endorphins tugging at the back of his mind, making him suffer down this _need_ to smile. All the while, his adrenaline is spiking. Katie is in the other room, damn near jumping out of her skin.

“COME ON!” She balks at him, and finally he emerges from the room. “I'll race you.” She dares. “To the mess hall. Come on!” She's suddenly bolting from the room, and though he usually has more restraint, before he knows what's happening, he's chasing after her.

They dodge passing assistants, laughing all the way, their laughs loud and obnoxious, but they quickly discover that they're not alone. Soldiers are running _everywhere._ Not just new recruits, but others, too. Every Soldier in the facility, in fact. They're yelling, fighting, laughing, and by the time they reach the mess hall, the place is a goddamn zoo. Tables are overturned, there's food everywhere. On the tables, in serving trays, on shirts, in faces, on floors, windows, the ceiling. They're both standing there in the doorway, grinning like maddened idiots from ear to ear. They laugh so loudly that their pain is drowned out by their inner hilarity. They join the fray.

With the other soldiers, they feast and then they fight, throwing down with one another right there on the floor in a circle of tables.

“Come on Gabe! I bet you can't take me!” She says after a while, taunting him into the ring with her. He grins widely and lofts his brows at her before they're suddenly rolling. They smack painfully against furniture, but no one can feel it, everyone's crying with laughter, including Gabe. He lets out a groan as she kicks him back into a table and he sags onto the bench. Katie's managed to do quite a number on him, bruising him more than a few times. They all have. Everyone's cut, bleeding slightly, giggling like mad.

“Christ, Katie, you weren't suppose to try killing me.” He winces, reaching up to wipe a drip of blood from his smile. She's chuckling at him.

“ _Sorry. Bad habit I guess._ Come on, I'm hungry... Let's go get some more-”

She finishes, but Gabe's eyes aren't on her. They're on the soldier who's just entered the room. There's no smile on Jack's face, no excitement, nothing. He's alone. Gabriel cants his head at Katie.

“Naw... You go ahead. I'm gonna catch up with this guy.” he says, feeling his heart rate slow a little bit as he tries to calm down. He moves to stand and eventually takes pace up with Jack.

“Hey... Morrison. What's goin' on, man? Where's-”

“Kelly? He's not coming back.” Jack utters, the timbre of his voice is almost frightening. “Washed out. Some kind of real bad reaction to the drugs.”

This shocks Gabe into silence and his step slows, despite that Jack's still walking. The blond has scooped up a tray and is ladling it full of food. Obviously he's hungry, but he doesn't seem to be sharing the same high as the rest of them, making Gabe wonder if he's not also having some kind of negative reaction to the drugs.

“...So what about you?” He asks without thinking.

“What _about_ me, Reyes?”

“Well, I mean... Uh... Most of us are like...” He glances around the room, narrowly dodging a flung dollop of mashed potatoes.

“Insane? Yeah. The nurses said that this happened to most people. Guess I slept through it.”

“Oh.” Gabe feels uncomfortable and stupid now. “Bummer, I guess.” He said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. As he starts to come down from his high, he can see clearly across the room that Katie hasn't. She's just jumped onto the back of one of the veteran's shoulders and has her legs locked around his neck. People are shouting and laughing. It's like the entire base has gone completely mad for the day. A smile tugs at Gabe's lips. He's somewhat eager to get back into it, but seeing Jack in such a state somewhat ruins his mood. Two weeks into it, and he's already lost his partner. What would they do with him, he wondered? He lets Morrison wander off, thinking the guy probably needs some time to think, and eat.

After a while, Katie came down too, and the two of them ventured into the training area to work some much needed energy out of their system, running, jumping as she promised, putting their bodies to their limits, pushing until their bodies broke, sweating to the point of dehydration, collapsing in heaps wherever they happened to make it in fits of laughter. It was a miracle half of them even made it back to their rooms.

They'd later discover that Jack was to simply be left on his own until they could find a new partner for him. Both felt some sense of sorrow, but did nothing. What could they have done? Gabriel invited Jack to run with them, but the blond declined, choosing instead to run alone. No one bothered him as he did so.

And as for the other two men besides Kelly? They weren't seen again.

 

The next day was probably the sickest and sorest Gabriel could ever remember feeling in his life up until this point. His bruises were swollen and the nausea was back, and every joint ached. Even his bones stung with what they were doing. He wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world, struggling to be able to drag himself out of his bed.

Katie had even had to do that for him, gripping onto his shoulder and yelling at him as she dragged him half out of his bed and letting his weight slide him the rest of the way down onto the floor, shirtless and face down.

“ _Get your fuckin' ass up, Reyes! If I show up there without you, we both get punished! So help me I will drag you by your neck if I have to!”_ She was furious. No doubt that if anyone else was in the rooms beside them, they could have heard her yelling. It was already past breakfast, and he wasn't moving. Ultimately, one of her boots landed squarely in his gut, jolting him awake with a heavy yelp and had him suffering down vomit.

“I'm up- I'm up...” he rasped, struggling but managing to get into his fatigues and following after the outraged soldier, shutting their door with a slam.

 

~

 

Dust. Dirt. The smell of pulse fire. The whir of omnic machinery and the crack of cement and rebar. Darkness, the promise of light through cracks in the fallen building without, but not here.

Pain.

It's the only feeling that registers in her mind as she stirs awake after god knows how long. She can barely breathe and her rib cage cries with every little breath she dares to take. She's pinned, trapped between the rubble of the collapsed balcony and the floor. Daring to suck in another breath, she can taste blood on her tongue along with whatever dirt has crowded its way into her mouth. Spitting, a white-hot pain stabs through her torso and spine. Overwatch.

They had done this.

 

And Reaper?

Where was he?

 

Rage fills Widowmaker's veins and gives her the adrenaline she needs to climb her way out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for reading. Please comment and share if you feel so inclined, I'd really like for this series to reach more people! Your feedback always makes me feel so incredible.
> 
> PS... How do you guys feel about a Switch Dominance Reaper/Reyes? I know most people seem to prefer Dominant Gabe but..... I'm playing with the idea of a few sub scenes. Lemme know.


	10. Secrecy

A hospital bed is hardly fitting for the deadly assassin that Widow was, but for the time being it's the only reason she's still alive. Stitching crosses over her frame and a few wicked looking pins hold her broken ribs in place. A steady stream of healing technology fastens onto her from a nearby table, illuminating the entire area in a yellow gleam. It's late night, but she can't sleep. She hadn't been sleeping much since she pulled herself out of the wreckage and was found minutes later by Talon. The entire facility had been cleared out by now, removing any evidence of anyone who'd been there, including one very missing Reaper. Dead, she thought. He had to be. She'd heard the way the building had collapsed seconds after the balcony fell, and how no one had seen him escape. He had to have been within it, trying to get to her, she imagined. It stood to reason however that there'd be no evidence of him around. How could there be? Sombra had found no other life forces within the vicinity and seemed more interested in the loss of her tech, buried somewhere beneath tons of stone and rebar.

Days later, Russian officials had cleared out everything. Incinerated every bit of it, and claimed the abandoned lot for themselves. Here Widow was now, in a secret Talon facility, sequestered away to a medbay, restless, outraged. Overwatch had done this, and Overwatch would pay. Not only was Reaper gone, but she had nearly died in the process. _He had died trying to get to her,_ a stinging thought that buried guilt into her core, making her more hateful, more outraged than she could remember feeling. Why in gods name did he care about her _so_ damn much? Shouldn't he have just let her die? Shouldn't he have let her die both times before as well? But he hadn't, and now it had lead to his death. _Why did it bother her so much that he had done that, or that he was gone in the first place?_ One could argue that her head was in the wrong place. Was she going to let it end that way? Overwatch had played their hand and taken him, her only friend, from her, even if they did argue so _very_ much. She had thought that at the end, she'd gotten to see a very brief glimpse of who he really was, who he'd been. For a moment, she'd let him see a bit into her as well. It was something she'd not shared with anyone else; the secret of Gerard, his tomb... Yet, Reaper had given away nothing. Even now, she had no idea where he went every Chistmas.

Twisting her head away, she glared yellow eyes into the whirring yellow machinery that was working to repair her ruptured lung and ribs as quickly as it was able. She might have left already, if she was not completely reliant on it, now that the adrenaline had faded and taken away the momentary strength it had given her.

All at once then, she catches a sound, the creak of the door opening to the room where she was being kept. At first, the figure is silhouetted by the lit hallway beyond, but Widow would recognize the black shape anywhere.

“Well well, the spider's alive and kicking after all.” Sombra's words are almost taunting. She smiles and comes to the edge of the bed, the light brightening up her black and pink accents. “I wasn't sure if you were going to last the night. How do you feel?” She asks, but Widow's eyes narrow at her.

“As if it really matters to you, Sombra. Why are you here?”

“I'm not allowed to care about a co-worker?” Sombra asks, her brows lofting.

“Don't play games with me,” Widow snaps, each word pains her chest to speak, but she knows that Sombra only ever does things for herself. She's not here because she genuinely cares for Widow's health.

Sombra shrugs casually, eyes downcast, and moves over to Widow's bedside, lightly stirring one of the drinks that's been brought to her, a cup of water with a lemon. It's barely been touched. “Just figured I would hear your report on all this.”

“My report? And what authority do you have to hear it?”

“Not a _formal_ report, Widow. _Dios mio.”_ She complains, rolling her eyes. “I just meant... How it went. What you all found out. What you intend to do.”

“We didn't find out anything that we didn't already know. Reaper just wanted his own personal questions answered.” Widow suppresses the urge to shrug, herself. “And they killed him for it.” The spider pauses, sighing shallowly and looking back at the hacker. “He found out about a few other hubs... Minor leads, I suppose.”

“But those don't interest you, do they?” Sombra asks, catching on the tone in Widow's voice. The sniper sighs.

“No. Hubs are easy to track down, and even if we destroy them, they're easy to rebuild.”

“But something else concerns you.” Sombra was insightful tonight.

“What of it?” Widow asks, snapping her head towards the hacker.

“Look.” Sombra says, her tone slicing through the air like a knife. She's cutting the crap, clearly, ending the small talk. Her voice lowers. “You and I both know that Talon is going to ask you what you did while you were there. Now, you and I are the only ones who know about the little favors you pulled for Reaper. Now, I think I need to hear it from you. What did you learn from him? Please tell me that the cost of my tech was at least _worth_ what you got in return. You don't want to start keeping secrets from Talon, do you? Especially not now. Not when you're all they have left, isn't that right?” Sombra leans forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “ _So why don't you tell me what he told you, and between us Girlfriends, Talon doesn't have to know about your little... spoils, hmm?_ ” She smiles sweetly, but it's malevolent, and Widow stares Sombra down, taken aback with surprise and confusion. Is Sombra trying to intimidate her?

Widow utters a half laugh, only to realize that it hurts, a _lot,_ to do that, and promptly stops.

“I thanked you for your help. Was that not enough? Must I compensate you personally? Do you want money, Sombra? You haven't got _anything_ on me.”

This causes Sombra's eyes to widen. Her magenta-colored lips widen and she smiles like they're telling a joke to each other.

 

_“Don't I?”_

 

Sombra leans forward and brings her hacking hand around. There's a few twitches between her fingers before a small light appears in the palm of her hand. Both hands now work, stretching and pulling the light into a rectangle, revealing itself to be a screen.

 

It's Widow in that dimly lit room, the borrowed tech. Reaper's lips are locked with hers, and they're on the bed. Seconds later, Widow slides down the wraith's front and begins unbuckling him. Widow feels the pit of her stomach drop as she watches the scene.

Sombra's captured everything. The entire encounter, the mistake that it was, Widow's lustful night with the masked gunner. It's painfully clear that it's her, that it's them. Widow can faintly pick up the audio, and the second she hears Reaper moan the first time, she snarls and shoves at Sombra with one of her free hands, growling at the white hot pain that rolls through her. The screen snaps out and away, hiding its secretive tidbits once more.

“ _What do you want, snake?”_ Widow snaps venomously, feeling betrayed. Here she had thought that Sombra was helping her because she cared about Talon, or maybe even slightly cared about her comrades. As usual, Sombra was only here for herself. She wanted direly to go to Talon about it, but what could she do? All Sombra had to do was show them that little video and she was _done for._

Sombra recovers with ease and smiles, letting her composure move casually once more.

“Just as I said. I want what he told you. You knew him better than anyone.”

“He's dead. What does it matter?”

“Whatever he knew might help with Overwatch, won't it? I can tell them how we found it out, rather than giving you away. Your methods are your own, and sometimes they're effective. I cant have eyes everywhere.”

“It wasn't just some _technique_ , you cruel bitch.” Widowmaker seethes. The hacker's brows loft again, clearly surprised by the sudden reveal.

“Oh, wasn't it?... Don't tell me you had _feelings_ for him, Widow. Isn't that like... Impossible or something?” But before she can even finish, she can hear Widow growling- like an animal. But, for all her noise, the sniper fails to find proper words. She looks away finally, growing quiet. After a moment, she speaks.

“He was-” No. No. Don't tell this little bitch what he was to you. Don't tell her that he helped you _feel_ anything at all, and that you told him about Gerard. Don't tell her that he made you smile, laugh, or impressed you, and may have been the only person to care about you at all, even when Talon had abandoned you to your death. Don't tell her that. She doesn't deserve it. “He got the captives to speak to him. The doctor they call Mercy, she got under his skin. She told him who he was before, and begged him to free them and go with them. But... Reaper had been having dreams. Memories. He said they were coming back regularly. Broken, like they weren't complete, sometimes they were mixed with nightmares... He said he thought that he had some kind of... Romance with the Soldier, Seventy-Six. Jack Morrison. That he thinks that's why the Soldier was there at all, as a personal vendetta, to kill him. He also asked me if... If after everything we've done, for Talon... If he thought that we could ever move on from it... It's like he questioned if what we were doing was right, or like, we'd never be redeemed for doing what we have. He seemed almost to regret being what he is. How he is. How he feeds. I've not seen him like that ever since we brought him into Talon. It's like something got into his head to make him question what he was doing here.” She shook her head. “I don't understand it... But he was right.”

“Right about what, Mija?”

Though Widow doesn't speak Spanish, she understands how condescending the pet-name comes off, and glares at Sombra.

“He was right about Soldier. That, he had all these chances to kill Reaper and I, only he didn't. He always called himself out, gave himself away before he could make the killing blow. It's like he _wanted_ Reaper to escape, or else he was _trying_ to get himself killed. Now is that all you wanted?”

“Is that all he said?” Sombra asked. Widow silently nodded, and the Latina moved to stand, smiling sweetly. “Then yes, I suppose I'm done here. Sleep well, will you? And, don't worry, your secret's safe with me.”

“Sombra.” Widow stopped her as the femme had reached the door, and her eyes gleamed back towards the hospital bed.

 

“ _It would be a shame if something happened to you on our next mission... A real pity._ ” Widow's words carry a threatening sting with them.

 

Sombra only smiles, chuckling in the doorway.

 

“Maybe you'll thank me someday, LaCroix.” Sombra replies smoothly before stepping out of the room and letting it close behind her.

 

~

 

There's never a dull day in the SEP. The rookies are starting to look _good_. It's a small improvement, but each of them notices it. Katie's with Gabe at almost all times, just as Colonel Walcott had promised. She's growing to be like a sister to him. They eat together, fight together, train together, everything. Jack, who remains partner-less, slowly comes around to them. One day, he picks up his tray and moves to where the two are eating, talking about which shows they liked as children and _heatedly_ debating which of the shows was better.

“ _Please._ ” Gabe's saying. “It doesn't matter because you already previously quoted _Space Jam._ I'm afraid all of your other arguments are completely null and void from this point.” He announces in a matter-of-fact tone to her as she eats. She laughs, spoons up three of four peas from her plate before launching them across the table at him. He recoils as though he's been struck with mud, but they both stop to stare at the blond who's now standing there with his plate of food.

“I... ah. I seem to have interrupted something.” Jack says awkwardly, watching Gabe brush peas out of the wrinkles in his fatigues. The two glance at each other before Katie smirks.

“Not at all, Morrison. Have a seat. How's it going? They find a new rookie for you yet?” She asks, but Jack shakes his head as he sits with them.

“Not yet.”

“Must be nice having your own toilet to yourself.” Gabe replies, resuming his meal.

“And someone who doesn't snore like a fucking lawnmower.” Katie adds, smirking. Gabe is glaring at her.

“It isn't that loud.” he insists.

“Like hell it isn't! I can hear you snoring away like you're trying to wake china while I'm trying to watch my old series.”

“ _What, like Battlestar Galactica is worth rewatching for the tenth time?_ My god, Katie. Did your parents just not own a proper tele-connection when you were a kid? All the shit you like is fuckin' ancient.” Gabe muses, stuffing another mouthful in. Before they can continue the conversation, however, someone enters the room and shouts over the din of the mess hall.

“COLONEL PRESENT. ATTENTION, SOLDIERS.”

At which point, everyone in black promptly stands at attention and salutes, abandoning their meals.

Walcott looks like he's seen a little bit of shit since the last time he spoke to them, but as always, he has a hardened look on his face. “At ease, Soldiers. I ain't here long, so you can get back to your cud here in a minute. I'm here to tell you we've moved up the next round of injections to tomorrow.” It's only been a few days since their _last_ injection, so people are nervous and instantly tense up at the news. A few more men had died then, too, so injection days were always something like Russian roulette. “Our sources tell us that the omnic forces are increasing in strength. They're expecting an attack within the fortnight, but we don't yet know where. What we do know is that some of our senior veterans will be the first on scene when we get there. Congratulations, Gentlemen. You're going to finally be _useful_. The rest of you will be shipped out as you're needed, where you're needed. As for the rookies, well, you're no use to us until you're done, so your injections will be coming a little more frequently. Everyone understand?”

“SIR, YES SIR.” The room choruses loudly, in unison.

Walcott nods, then turns and departs, leaving them all to their meals. The recruits all lock glances as they sit back down.

“Tomorrow... that's.. uh. Soon.” Jack says, glancing over at the two, who both nod. So much for their happy conversation, all anyone can think about now is what their chances are of surviving the next day. Dinner becomes quiet for everyone in the hall. It's like someone important has just died, or if the war has suddenly just begun. While some are concerned about the injections, others worry quietly over the threat of the omnic attacks. Where would they happen? Were their families safe? Would humans win? Some people were just silent.

 

That night, Katie and Gabriel sit on their couch, casually lounging against one another as they flip through old TV shows, a recorded TV broadcast, things that are sent down to them. Nothing live is ever received in the base, so there's mem-chips everywhere full of various things. Katie's _Battlestar_ for one. As they browse, Gabe's leaning against the arm of the couch, his elbow propped up on it, and his hand supports his head. Katie's using his shoulder as a footrest as she leans against the opposite armrest.

“Reyes?” She calls suddenly.

“Hm?” he responds wearily.

“I gotta tell you something.”

Chestnut stare lurks over at her, brows lofted, he hardly seems impressed, but he's listening. She drops her feet down onto his lap.

“Last night I went out.”

“You what?” He asks abruptly, sitting up a little more.

“I went out. I had to look around.”

“Went out _where?_ What the hell are you talking about, Katie?”

“Out of the room, after hours. I snuck down into their intelligence base after the guards rotated... I uh.. found some things.”

“Jesus Christ, you what? Why? What did you find?”

“I went out! I had to know if this was all legal. I had to know if what they were telling us was true. Well... yes, it's legal, but so are a lot of other things. Things that bothered me.”

“Like what.”

“Like the fact that they don't have to tell our families if we die.” Her words drop like a guilty verdict, and for a moment, Gabe is stunned.

“Wait, what?” He finally manages to stammer out.

Katie nods.

“For secrecy, they don't even have to report our deaths to our families. They don't even have to send our bodies home. Our bodies technically belong to them, if they want them, if we die. Doesn't that bother you? I feel like an object.”

“Of course it fucking bothers me. I have to call Rosa-”

“ And _what,_ Gabe? You can't TELL her. They'll kick you out, or god knows what!

“I- _still_. Where the hell was _that_ in the fine fucking print? I've gotta call her. Talk to her. At least tell her I love her. _Fucking something.”_ Gabriel snapped. Katie's gone quiet and she's sitting up now.

“...Anyway. I uh... I wanted you to know, since we've got the injections tomorrow and everything... Sorry. That probably ruined your night, huh?” She asks, sounding apologetic.

“...Naw. I mean... Yeah. But, thanks though. I mean... I'm glad I know.” he said, his voice sullen and dark, his eyes downcast off of the holoscreen. The Asian femme is quiet for a long moment before she moves to sit next to him, her shoulder bumping his as she leans against his side.

“Hey, maybe after all of this, you can teach me to play guitar.” She urges. He snorts some.

“You mean if we make it out of all this.”

“I'm told that the Team Captains are allowed to have a thing. Something personal, like a reward.” She shrugged. But, Gabe laughs.

“I guess it's well and good that we're Team Captains then, isn't it?” Sarcastic as usual, his eyes roll. They were grunts here, a far cry from captains of anything. She laughs at him and nudges him.

“Hey. I'm serious. I never knew anyone who could play guitar.”

Gabe looks over at her, smirking. “Fair enough. I guess I never knew anyone who could wield swords.”

Their night ends on a better note, with them bantering over the ridiculousness of cylons and the entire plot of the show in general. As usual, Katie's enthralled with the show, and Gabe can't stop picking it apart.

 

Injections every two weeks, for a total of six. That was three months. Gabriel was doing the math in his head now, especially since their injections had been moved up. The two weeks that they should have gotten between the last injection and this one had been narrowed down to a staggering four days. They'd only been here a month, but it felt like so much longer. They all operated like one giant family; well, except in mock mission sessions, where they openly tried to blow each other up, but that was different. He couldn't shake the feeling that having the injections separated by two weeks was for safety reasons. Weren't they afraid that moving it up would have some kind of adverse affect? People already died on a regular basis from them, from complications of whatever it was that was being pumped into them. But... Surely, this was an expensive program. They cared about their soldiers, right?

So then why did tomorrow feel so much like an execution?

 

Each round of injections was a little bit different. Made more intense somehow. The tracking of Gabe's eyes quickened, his muscles twitched and spasmed with greater strength, trying the bindings that held them all down. The blistering spread over greater areas of his flesh, only to suddenly start healing hours later. In fact, almost all of their injuries started healing quicker than they should have. Recruits could run faster, jump higher; stereotypical super-soldier rhetoric that had been pumped into the mainstream media for decades. But the healing? That was new. Unfortunately, the vomiting was still firmly lodged into the routine. They'd all primed themselves for it this morning as they filed into the room. Gabe could hear Jack sigh beside him and Katie said nothing. He too, said nothing and let himself be strapped in. He glanced over at Katie then, and she looked back at him.

“See you on the flip-side, Chief.” She muses at him before shutting her eyes.

He smirked at her and did the same.

As usual, about half way into the procedure, as his muscles bulged and his bones ached against his restraints, as his vision went black and his mind grew dizzy, he blacked out.

 

When he woke up, Katie wasn't there.

 

Likely out feasting, Gabe turned his attention around the room. Everyone else had already filed out too, except for a couple guys at the end of the hall. Not guys he knew very well besides their names. He pushed himself up and took a few minutes for the adrenaline to hit his body so that he could make his way back down the hall.

As he walked that way, his eyes were down turned, lost in thought. It was then that a hand caught him on the shoulder. Chestnut eyes jerk up and land on brilliant blue sapphires. Jack is staring at him, and though Gabe can tell that Jack's high on the drugs, there's something in his look that startles Gabe. The blond's mouth sits slightly open, and Gabe looks back the way he's come from. It's the dormitories, and there's someone standing in their doorway. Gabe starts to rush forward, but Jack's hand tightens on his shoulder.

“ _Don't._ ” Jack warns.

“...Katie...” Gabe stammers.

Suddenly he's rushing forward. He doesn't care that he's still in a hospital gown, or that there's officials around. His eyes are widened, maddened. He knows beyond any hint of a doubt what has happened. There's a rolling cart in front of their doorway, full of cleaning materials and a few of Katie's things, her fatigues, the mem-chips of her silly TV shows.

Gabriel goes into a rage. Reaper rears his head for the first time in SEP.

His hand latches onto the cart and sends it cartwheeling across the hall into the opposite wall, all of its items and tools scattered, the noise horrendously loud.

“WHERE'S KATIE? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?” He roars, and Jack is lunging down the hallway, rounding the corner that their rooms were down.

He finds Gabriel standing there, his left hand wrapped up and around an attendant's throat. He's holding them a good two feet off the ground, strangling her, a small woman with red hair, blue eyes. The look in his eyes is murderous, venomous and utterly wicked. Jack feels fear strum through him like the trembling line of a heart monitor.

“ _C-Compli- ca”_

The attendant is choking out, trying vainly to find air.

“GABE, STOP!” Jack barks back loudly, suddenly breaking into a sprint. He catches Gabriel in the side, launching him sideways. The woman collapses to the ground, gripping her throat as Jack and Gabriel go sliding sideways. Suddenly, they're in a fight, and Gabriel throws Jack into the opposite wall with so much force that his spine makes a dent in the drywall. Jack now howls with rage and launches himself back, landing a flurry of blows on Gabe's chest, gut, and jaw, knocking him backwards into the opposite wall. The attendant now is screaming for help, and three nurses are rushing down the hall, sedatives in hand. They recognize that this is not the same type of playful brawl that's going on down in the mess hall. As Jack and Gabe lock again, sweat rolls down their brows, they roll, Jack pins Gabe to the floor. For a moment he's able to see the tears streaming down Gabe's cheeks, tainted with raw fury.

Gabe tries to fight back, but Jack hits him again.

“STOP!” He yells. “Let it go! Complications- these things hap-”

“ _Don't you dare say 'these things happen!'_ ” Gabe snarls, rolling and shoving Jack back down to the floor instead, his hand on his throat, fingers tightening threateningly. “ _You don't know a god damn thing, Morrison.”_ Gabriel hisses.

Seconds later, a needle is shoved into him and depressed.

For the second time that day, he blacks out.

 

_See you on the flip-side, Chief._

 

~

 

Reaper stirs slowly in his room. His body aches, and he's cold and wet. The bathtub really isn't the best place to fall asleep, he'd later lament, but he feels refreshed at any rate. There's a beeping sound coming from somewhere in his room. It jolts him awake, and soon there's the sound of a comm device engaging.

“Reyes?” The voice is calm, collected and mechanical. It's Genji. “I'm coming in.”

He sounds like he's been standing there pinging him for a few minutes, and now Gabe's out of time. In a rush, he flees the tub and barely manages to dry off before ghosting into his attire, causing it to simply materialize from where he'd placed it on the counter and floor to being on his person instead. There's water all over the floor, and he feels grossly wet, but it was better than letting Genji see him naked, he supposed. As he exits the bathroom, Genji is standing right there. Somehow, despite his lack of expressions, Genji looks relieved.

“ _Expected me to leave, did you?”_ Reaper asks. Genji laughs, but it's backed with nervousness. It's not the reaction that Reaper was hoping for.

“Can you blame me? You're difficult to keep caged- _er. Sorry.”_ The cyborg flounders. It's clear that for all of Genji's calm, collected deadliness, he still fumbles now and again when it comes to social interactions. Perhaps he was only good at talking to women? Reaper wraiths _through_ him to exit the bathroom, intentionally unnerving the man without a word.

“Are you going to be _escorting me,_ then?” The shade's words drip with utter distaste.

“Just for now.” Genji says, turning, his fingers idly touching at his own upper chest, as if scratching an invisible itch. He moves back towards the door, eyes never straying from the ghost. But, he's insightful, and catches the undisturbed bed, the water on the floor. “Perhaps you would be more in the mood for a tour if you did not sleep in the tub.” He points out, but Reaper is in no mood to be sassed.

That doesn't seem to bother Genji, who sasses him anyway, because he's still outraged over what Gabriel did to Angela. How can he help but think about ending the shade when no one else is around? _This isn't the way, my student._ That is what Zenyatta would have said. It, along with Angela's pleas, are all that stay Genji's blade for the time being. The bottom line is that he's been sent here to escort Reaper because he's the one most capable of keeping up with the ghost, and if need be, putting him down. Though that hasn't been said to Reaper specifically, he knows it without needing the lecture.

Needless to say, Reaper does not reply, merely waiting, and Genji stops at the doorway entirely. Reaper has noticed a change in the room however. It's not night time anymore. He knows this because the lights in the room have all changed from silvery blue to a dawn yellow hue. The screen on the wall opposite the door is also now showing a daytime scene, as opposed to night time. For the moment he is taken aback by the change.

“Never seen environ-lights?” Genji asks, his brow raising under his visor. Reaper's head twitches back to the cyborg.

“ _Not in Talon._ ” He replies. “ Why is it... _like_ _this?_ ”

“Like what?” Genji asks.

But Reaper's gaze is unwavering from the ninja, and he doesn't explain his question.

“What is this place, Genji?”

He can hear Genji laugh slightly under his armor.

“Let me show you.”

 

So Reaper goes with him. They exit the hallways and arrive back in the circular room. The glowing map on the far right wall has changed, too. It's something else now, a news show. There's a few people watching it, sitting on the cushioned benches around the planter in the center of the room. All the lights in this room have changed too, now coming down like rays of sun, their heat warm upon his exposed biceps as he passes beneath them. It _feels_ like real sunlight. When the two people watching the show hear them, they naturally glance over. Genji is a familiar sight, and they smile, but it fades quickly the second that they see who's with him. One of the two even reaches up to cover her mouth in mild fear.

“Ah, good morning ladies.” Genji soothes effortlessly. “It's alright. We're just passing through.” Trying to silence whatever growl has started in the back of Reaper's throat. “ _Come on._ ” He insists as they move towards the elevator.

When the doors close and they're inside, Reaper glances towards Genji. “Who were they?”

“Associates. Not everyone in Overwatch is a hero, Reyes. Often, the world's successes lie on the backs of ordinary people, dutiful workers, fighting for a cause without raising their fists. They help us. They clean our base, do our laundry, cook our meals, grow our food. You will see many of them... And many of them will see you.” He pauses here, then looks back to meet the Reaper's black stare. “And you have a bad, bad reputation to undo, if that's what you intend to do at all. You're going to get a lot of looks. Best get used to it, for now.”

“You doubt my intentions?” Reaper asked. The elevator seems to go up indefinitely, and he wonders just how far under ground his room actually is.

“I think that if you _intended_ to kill me, to betray Overwatch, you would have done it the second I entered your room, or stepped in the elevator.”

They're both quiet now, and for a moment it seems like either one of the two questions whether or not they want to take the opportunity to kill the other now. How easy would it be for them to get into a fight, trapped several stories under ground, with no aid? No one to come and rescue Genji. No one to come and stop Genji from running Reaper through.

Genji breaks the silence after a moment.

“It might also help if you didn't dress like the harbinger of death.” The tone is mildly unamused, chiding, almost condescending. Beneath his mask, Reaper utters a groan of distaste.

“ _I haven't got anything else.”_ He murmurs after a moment of silence. Genji snorts, and Reaper mildly wonders how he's even able to make the sound with his helmet on.

Finally, the elevator reaches a stop and they exit. It's the same room as before. A quiet, unmanned reception area. There's a desk, but no one sitting at it. No computers, no phones, nothing. Yet, there's a round table in the center of it with a vase, loaded with fresh bird of paradise and tropical orchids.

_What was this place?_

Reaper is quiet for a time, only the sound of his boots thudding against the ground as he walks. Metal against marble, heavy and echoing. Every time they run into someone, they stop and divert their paths immediately, or simply refuse to look up from their work after a glance.

Genji announces the areas as they move.

“There's a lot of things here you might find familiar. A mess hall, an operations room, training facilities, a virtual mission room-”

“A what?” Reaper interrupts.

“A virtual... Ah... right. You've been out of the loop for a while I suppose. With hard light technology improvements, we've made a training facility that enables new recruits to face off against moving targets. Targets that fight back. Changing environments, terrains, weather conditions. It's all much more advanced than we had in Blackwatch.”

Reaper struggles to remember anything about Blackwatch, but he catches the word 'we' and echoes it without thinking.

“We?”

Genji stops. They're standing in a hallway that runs parallel to a cement courtyard, the whole right side of it made of glass. Within the courtyard, there's a basket ball hoop and a couple tennis nets strung up. A few people are in the court, playing. The sound of the ball hitting the ground is both familiar and fond to Reaper. Something ancient from his past.

“Blackwatch. You lead it. I was one of yours.” Genji explains, having heard multiple times now that Reaper allegedly had no memory.

“One of mine?”

“Under you. You helped get my cybernetics. You sent me on missions. Often with agent McCree.”

McCree. Now there's a name he hasn't heard actually spoken in a very long time. It makes Reaper suck in a breath and he looks away, his eyes landing on the few playing ball. For the moment they haven't noticed that the two are standing there. Reaper, preferring it to remain that way, ghosts onward, floating instead of walking. Genji moves along after him, catching up with ease.

At the end of the hall there's a set of glass doors, and they step through them. Reaper finds them standing in the glass domes that he had noticed before, the greenhouse like shape that towers over them, tall enough that whole trees stand erect beneath it's glass canopy. The sun cuts through it in golden ribbons, bathing heat down on them. There is a lawn here, well kept and bright green. There's a small golf course nearby, trees that branched out and offered welcome shade to the area like a small paradise. Tropical ferns and the orange flash of wild bird of paradise plants gleam in the light, and Reaper squints against it, entirely out of his element here. It's all so... beautiful and quiet, colorful and alive.

All of the things he wasn't.

The path Genji leads him on is paved with the same white stone that he spotted in the front of the facility the night they arrived. Where the one massive glass dome ends, another begins, and he leads Reaper into it in silence. They're in a garden now, and he finds himself staring at a row of fruit trees to his left, and on the right side of the path, a ways forward, a corn field. Its not big. Non of the plots are especially massive, but enough to require a few people to man them.

Lounging just at the edge of the field, on a patch of green grass in the sun, Jack relaxes on a towel, his grey t-shirt bearing a few sweat stains. His visor is off, apparently replaced, his eyes closed, blue shorts on, simple shoes. His fingernails are already growing back, a detail that Reaper can barely make out from this distance. The two stop and Genji glances at the ghost, gauging his reaction to seeing the Soldier laying there, knee's bent, relaxed.

If Reaper feels anything, he does not say so, instead moving on, following the path. There's more fruit and vegetables here than he's ever seen in one place in his life.

“How is this possible?” He asks finally.

“Ah... The Envirodomes.” He pauses, to see if Reaper recognizes the term, but when the man doesn't reply, he offers up an explanation. “Winston was hard at work during the downtime Overwatch suffered. He had these domes built to mirror the living centers that existed on the moons. We could use them, he said, to help feed people. In one place, we do not need a region, we do not need a time of year to make it happen. Here, we can grow anything.”

“Overwatch grows its own food...” Reaper says with the realization as it dawns on him.

“...Yes, of course. It's easier than having anything shipped in. It's safer.”

“Safer..?”

Their gazes meet as much as they can with them both wearing masks. Genji struggles with what to say. “Safer. No risk of outside tech... or otherwise.”

Reaper nods slowly with understanding, then follows on and Genji leads him into another dome, this one looking like the final dome. This one's different. Its a little smaller, hosts a pool, a running track, but what strikes him the most is that in one of the far corners, half shadowed by a large tree, there's something... Else. Something entirely out of place.

 

It's a sand pit, with a jungle gym, pained red, worn with age and use.

“...Genji.” Reaper pauses, mouth sitting slightly open. He takes half a step forward towards the vacant, abandoned seeming playground. “What _is_ this place?” He asks again, this time more insistently.

Finally, Genji answers him.

“This base used to be a refuge for wartime orphans, Reyes. Children made homeless by the omnic crisis were sometimes brought to live here. Raised here. This was their home. It was a safe haven away from war, away from desolation. One of Overwatch's achievments. One of Morrison's little projects.”

Reaper gulps hard, though he can't say why.

“Jack made this?” Gabriel asks.

Genji steps up along side him. “In a way. Jack helped. Jack saw it funded, had it built, but it was Winston's technology.”

“How long has it been here?”

“Since the first few weeks that Jack was made strike commander. He had several bases like this made, specifically for helping civilians.”

Reaper finds himself in mild awe, though he struggles to understand his feelings. How could the man who wanted him dead, the man who helped make Reaper into this monster also be responsible for something so... Heroic?

“Where are they now?” Gabriel asks, feeling his rage ebb away. Reaper starts to slip out of primary control. Gabriel stirs. “The children. What happened to them?”

All of those rooms down under ground. There had to be hundreds. Had Jack and Winston helped so many? Had Overwatch truly done this?

Genji laughs gently.

“It's been a couple decades, Reyes. They've all grown up. Moved on, some of them.”

“Some of them?”

“Many chose to stay. They chose to become part of this place. Part of the facility. It was closed down after the explosion at Swiss HQ, but they stayed here and worked, sending aid in whatever fashion they could all around the world. Usually in the form of food and medicine. Some of them were simply too damaged to go back into a normal society and function. This haven remains for them. A paradise to recover in. They repay what Overwatch has done for them, not because they have to, but because they choose to. Now that Overwatch is active again, they work along side us once more. But, you will not find proof of Overwatch here. At least not on the surface. It's safer this way. As I'm sure you've noticed. It isn't military. It isn't sterile, it isn't... by the books. It's like a small resort. A private get away. The perfect front to keep it hidden.”

“And where is _here_ exactly?” Reaper pries.

Genji turns to him, and they face each other.

“You know I can't tell you that. Not yet. You're still new. We can't trust you. Not yet.”

“No one here will trust me.”

“ _Should we?_ ” Genji rebukes, silencing the ghost for the moment. He asks himself the same question. Would _he_ trust himself, were he in their shoes?

“ _I suppose not._ ” He replies quietly after a moment. As they turn to move on with the tour, he catches the Soldier standing at the entrance to the dome, staring at them. Glaring. He turns away at once and jogs elsewhere.

They fall quiet then, as Genji shows him the way to the mess hall and the training facility. He also leads him to the medbay, but every where else is strictly off limits for the time being. Reaper can only guess they're hidden away, anyway, because as far as he can tell, Genji's shown him all the buildings on the surface, and there's nothing else in sight. “You should probably take your meals in your roo- oh... _Uh. Right._ ” Genji trails off awkwardly, encountering the same problem that Reaper's been lurking on for the last fifteen minutes. How was he going to feed in this pristine paradise of theirs?

The tour ends half past noon, and Genji leads Reaper back to his room, and by this time, Gabe is sweating and thirsty. Black leather and robes weren't exactly the most forgiving attire. While it may well have been winter, it feels like late spring or summer here, and he reaches up to lower his hood. Genji is slightly taken aback by the display, the straps that hold Reaper's mask on, but he does not shy away as the mask is removed. Beneath it, Gabriel looks _mostly_ healthy. His skin is still paler than it was a few days ago, but still carries its healthy brown sheen. His chestnut eyes, flecked with red, flick back to Genji in a small show of trust.

“Something to drink?” He asks, setting his mask down on on a table just to the right of the door he enters. “And... can you show me how to...” He motions the small device on the right of the holoscreen on the wall.

Taken out of his trance by the request, Genji jerks slightly. “Ah! Of course.” He moves past Reaper to the wall. There's a few buttons. Channel, input, display, volume, all the basic things, but additionally there's a dial of sorts.

“You can change it to what you like. The channel, if you want. We get all of the common channels, a few old movie channels. There's the window scene... That's what it's on now.” he says, motioning the moving beach scene it shows. “It'll show you a part of the world, in live time.”

“This isn't pre-recorded?” Gabriel asks.

“No. It's live... This scene is... Oahu, I believe. If you change the picture, you have the option of changing the theme of the room-” But, before he can even finish the statement, Gabriel has moved forward and is nudging him out of the way. He's quick to learn, and all _too_ eager to get away from this nautical theme that has been picked for him. His fingers flip through the scenes until he lands on a forest scene. It's in the wilderness somewhere, tall pines with ferns at their bases, the ground covered in leaf litter. He turns down the dial on saturation until it's black and white, shades of grey between, immediately making the room darker. As for the theme of the room, his lights shift. They turn white and silver with the rare yellow light, shifting as if through trees. Somehow, even the walls have darkened. The room has become especially monochromatic with exception to the bed, still blue. He stares at it, his eyes disappointed, lips pulled into a small frown.

Genji laughs.

“Calm down, Reyes. It's just lighting. Not _magic_. I can put a word in for the assistants for a different color, shall I?... Black perhaps?” He's taking a stab in the dark, _literally._

 _“Red sheets,_ black top.” Reaper corrects, making it obvious that he has exactly no problem making his preferences as clear as crystal. Genji smirks somewhat beneath his visor, then moves away to the door.

“Very well.” He pauses. “ _Welcome home, Reyes._ ”

 

As Genji leaves him, Gabe sits down on the left side of the bed, facing the screen. He lets his eyes delve into the image of the forest, catching on the drift of the dust, the occasional bird as it flies by. His weight sags into the bed.

 

For the first time in a long time, Gabriel starts to feel whole again.

 

_Welcome home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, as always! This chapter is a little lighter, but I hope that it provides some interesting twists all the same =) Don't worry. The drama will return in full force asap.


	11. Methods

~

 

Gabriel holds his head in his hands, fingernails plucking against his scalp as he sits in the medbay of SEP. Jack is nearby, littered with just as many bruises, in just as much pain. The two are quiet for the moment. The lecture they've just received from a superior officer is anything but comforting. Another outburst like that and they may well get court-martialed, mainly for destruction of property. The wall wasn't going to be easy to fix, to be sure. Jack's back felt it more than he'd seen it happen. The two glance at each other, chestnut eyes meeting placid blues. _What are we doing here,_ they seem to say to one another in their looks? Jack's eyes are still colored with confusion, and Gabe's, tinted with rage. He wasn't angry at Jack, no, that much was obvious. There was so much that wasn't explained.

“Back to your rooms, until we can figure out what to do with you.” They'd been instructed. So the two left the medbay, stitched up where it was necessary, left with their pain as a _lesson_ against real violence outside of mock-missions.

Jack catches up to Gabriel as they walk, silent until they reach the corridor.

“Hey.” He says suddenly, breaking into Gabriel's thoughts. The darker man glances at him without saying a word. Jack fumbles for a moment before continuing. “Look... Can I just... hang with you for a bit?”

“...Like, in my room?”

“Yeah.”

Gabriel hesitates, but ultimately he sighs, brows lofting shortly as he takes a defeated tone.

“Suit yourself I guess.” And they head down the corridor, Gabriel swipes his hand over the lock before motioning Jack inside. The blonde steps in, and Gabriel lets the door shut behind them. While Jack's taking in the room itself, Gabe can't help noticing how all of Katie's things are missing. It almost makes him rage again. Collapsing on the couch, he feels his weight crush into the fabric more heavily than it usually does. He can almost remember the feel of Katie leaning against him, his partner, his friend. Gone now.

Jack can't help but notice how their rooms are almost identical, except that Gabe's room is a lot cleaner, neater somehow, things all fixed up, placed almost properly. He can see the gaps where things used to be that had been removed, and upon hearing Gabe sit, he comes to sit too. They're facing the holo-tele, but it's off, and the room is somewhat dark. Darker than he's used to, anyway. It occurs to him that Reyes isn't going to speak, that... Perhaps he was a somewhat quiet man even before SEP. That it wasn't until he made friends here that he really spoke up.

“Look... I'm sorry about Katie, Reyes.” Jack says, his rough voice trying to sound comforting. “This isn't the way any of us expected this to go... But there was nothing either of us could do.”

“Like hell.” Reyes grumbles out, his thick dark eyebrows furrowing. Fingers, callused and sharp, reach up to rub invisible aches out of his face.

“What do you mean?” Jack asks after a moment. “You think we could have? She was already gone when we-”

“No, Morrison. I don't think we could have do anything. But I think I should have seen this coming.”

“...What? Why?” Jack leans against the opposite armrest, his back pressing into the furniture, trying to soothe itself without any success.

Gabriel debates whether or not he should even tell the blond. Should he know what was going on? Should he even dare to mention what it is that's boiling his blood over? If he told him, would it be safe? If Jack went and told... It would be the end of them both.

He looks down, then over at Jack, who's staring at him, his eyes wide and round. Gabe's reminded of a puppy, rolls his own eyes and looks away.

“It isn't safe. If I... If you know... If you say _anything..._ ” His voice drops low... His jaw clenches, he still doesn't feel safe. He no longer trusts this room, or the SEP in general.

“...Come to the bathroom with me.” Gabe insists, and at first Jack is repulsed, his brows knitting.

“What?! You must be out of -”

“Look. It's nothing _gay_ , just trust me.” Gabe snaps, moving to stand and moving away to the bathroom.

Seconds later, Jack follows, shutting the door behind him. While he leans against it, Gabe leans against the sink, his arms crossing. He knows for a fact that there's no cameras here, no hidden audio queues. But, if those existed in the other room, wouldn't the SEP have come for him, too? If they knew that Katie had told him? It doesn't matter now. She's gone, and Gabe isn't taking any chances.

“Katie stepped out of her bounds. She did something she shouldn't have. Found some information that wasn't hers to have... She told me about it last night. Today, she's dead. Gone, mysteriously, when the other two injections suited her fine. Don't you think that's a little odd?”

“What was it?” Jack asks after a moment, letting the weight of Gabe's conspiracy theory settle into him. He doesn't want to believe it. “What did she do? What did she find?”

“If I tell you, we're both at risk. It's a risk I'm not going to take.”

“Goddamnit, Reyes. How can you expect me to just... just go with this? You're asking me to keep a secret without even telling me what the secret is!” Jack hisses. They're both whispering, but both hold their ground, defiantly to one another.

“I can't. All I can say is that you should call your folks as often as you can. As soon as you're able... You might not get to talk to them again. She didn't.” The thought pains Gabe's heart, knowing that Katie never got to phone home, and that her family may not even know she was dead. Or how she died. _Or that Gabe suspects she was poisoned, or god knows what else._

Jack doesn't look happy, but his lips form a thin line, silencing himself. A sigh exhales itself through his perfect, straight nose. It's not the first time that Gabe's noticing this man's flawless features, but now isn't the time to go admiring him, so he drops his arms.

“Get out.” Gabe says finally.

“That's it?” Jack asks, not moving. “You're just going to tell me that, give me this... this idea you have that they took Katie away because she stepped out of line, not tell me why, then tell me that I should be calling home every month on the dot? What the hell, Gabriel? Are we all fuckin' dying of cancer or something? What the fuck is it?”

“No.” Gabe says, moving forward, his right hand lands on Jack's right shoulder, trying to urge him out of the way, but Jack doesn't move. Gabe sighs and meets his stare levelly. “Look. Maybe I'll tell you later. I can't take the risk right now. We're not dying. But don't give them any reason to dislike you, yeah? Keep your head down, mind focused. All that _soldier_ shit they tell you.”

Finally, Jack relents, shrugging out from under Gabe's hands, stepping aside from the door. Gabriel steps out and moves into his room, leaving Jack standing there in the bathroom until he moves into their tiny living area. Gabe's changing now, preparing for bed since the clock's warning that they need to be awake in four hours. There's a crack in the door, and Jack can see the fine sculpt of Gabriel's torso as he removes his shirt, then his spine as he turns. The blond looks away, trying not to peep.

“Suppose they'll make us partners now.” He offers towards the other, glancing back.

A glimpse of one _powerful_ thigh is all Jack needs before he's rushing to the door, putting Gabe out of his line of sight. Now was really not the time for such distractions.

“Guess so.” Reyes replies, shrugging. “Guess we'll find out tomorrow. Go to bed, Morrison. It's late.”

Seconds later, Gabriel can hear the sound of the front door open and then shut again, locking in place. He drifts off to sleep there after, exhausted and in pain. Tomorrow wasn't going to be fun.

 

As expected, they're in the mess hall, finishing up their breakfast when they're approached. All of the newest recruits are called to a meeting after their breakfast, as opposed to their regular, morning exercises and training regimens. Well, Gabe's peers are the newest, so after their meal, everyone meets up in a room situated with chairs. It's white walls with blue plastic seats, nothing extravagant. There's a desk at the front of the room with a white board behind that. Like a classroom, but without desks. Standing there is Colonel Walcott, so none of them sit until they're given the order to do so.

“Morning, Gentlemen.” He says, his voice just as sharp and heavy handed as usual. “So lets get right to it then, shall we? We started with twenty of you, and now we have...” He counts. A few people have been lost in the injections, and a couple others have washed out, incapable of keeping up with it. “Looks like fourteen. That's great, except it isn't. Let me explain the situation.

The omnic presence has increased over the last few weeks. It encroaches on the eastern coast of Canada. You may recall that we dispatched some of our veterans to help combat the issue. Unfortunately, we lost one of our higher up Captains in battle. Your two captains, Bennison and Fisher, were selected because of their previous military experience to be Team Captains. Team Captains are the first in line to ascend to the actual rank of Captain. Captains go in the field. Real life or death shit. Fighting omnics. Calling the shots. We're selecting one of you to fill the gap. However... Because this is a highly important, dangerous job, we're going to do a sort of test. Today's mock-mission will be the first of three. Your two groups will be evenly split into seven, so both of you will have six men working under you. How you perform in these three missions will determine which of you is promoted. Additionally, we'll be looking at you _other_ recruits to take the place of whoever leaves. Understood?”

That meant that they were all under evaluation.

 

The first mock-mission was a shit show, as all of this often seemed to be. Their Team Captain, Fisher, is at the end of his wits with the evaluation. Despite that he's normally quite calm, collected, and good under pressure, today, his mind is somewhere else. It's miserable. Of the seven men there, three are down in the first minute and a half, dropped to the ground with light shots, made unconscious, while the opposite team had lost only one in the entire firefight. That left Fisher, Morrison, Reyes and one other, a flighty redheaded woman of the last name O'Connel.

“What are we doing here, Fisher!?” She yells over the hail of bullet fire that's raining down over their safe spot. All four of them are crouching behind a large cement slab that's slowly being chipped away. In front of them, the barrier of the training room, effectively trapping them and leaving them no room except to go right, further into the enclosure, or left, back the way they've come. Dazed by the loss of the other three, fisher is frazzled, sweating bullets, buckling under the pressure. “Uh.. uh..” His voice shakes like he's in an earthquake.

“WE NEED AN ANSWER NOW, FISHER.” Jack roars over the noise.

Seeing their eventual failure in his mind, Gabriel steps in, shoving Fisher aside.

“Let's evaluate what we have. I've got three more magazines and a single incendiary, Jack has two magazines- O'Connel?”

“Out. I used them on our way in.”

“I have two smoke grenades.” Fisher adds, desperate to be useful.

Gabe's chestnut stare darts towards Jack. “You're the fastest of us. I'm going to lob this grenade towards the balcony where they're standing. When I do, you bolt right. Make your way up to them. O'Connel, take one of Jack's magazines. Load it up. I want you to rain hell down on their left escape route. Fisher, you'll land one of your smoke grenades on Jack's way in, give him cover. I'm going to keep them pinned down from here with O'Connel. Jack, when you get up there, they'll be trapped You can get through the smoke faster than they can. All you have to do is gun them down. Fisher, I want you to try and take down anyone who dares to come down off that balcony towards us. You're the biggest man here, so you'll be our body guard. You use that last smoke grenade if we need it, and we'll bolt to get to cover.”

For a moment, everyone's taken aback by this plan, or the fact that it's Reyes uttering it, and not Fisher. Still, they're running out of time, and no one argues. They nod and grow quiet, and within seconds, the plan is under way. Gabe's incendiary flies over the top of their secure cover and lands in the middle of the three hailing down on them. One of them flies over the balcony, onto his back in the middle-ground between them, and Fisher is on him in seconds, using his fists as his remaining weapons. O'Connel manages to put down one of the men who's backed too far left to the side of the balcony, and he goes down. Jack's already bolted and Gabe can hear his rifle firing into the cloud made by the smoke grenade Fisher threw seconds prior. Another scream, and the third man has gone down. Now, there's bullet-fire hailing from within the compound they're infiltrating, and Gabe nudges O'Connel. “Lets go! Jack needs backup.” Fisher has put down the man in the middle, and now all three rush to the ramp Jack's cleared. They make the balcony in seconds, but Fisher takes a bullet to the shoulder, then to the chest, and goes down. There's no blood, because they're light bullets, made for incapacitating and not damaging, but the pain of it is very real, and he roars out before he falls unconscious. O'Connel charges ahead, tripping up one of the remaining men and putting him out with the butt of her rifle. There's only two left now, carefully protecting their point, as it were. As Jack fronts them on one side, Gabriel tries to flank them, but a bullet clips his leg, bringing him down.

“O'Connel!” he yells, and at once, she's launching herself over him and stands in front of him, gunning down the offending man. The last is put down by Morrison in a brawl, and finally, O'Connel slaps the button on the wall, a large, red circle that signifies their success.

As the dust clears as the mission ends, loud, large fans start, cleaning and filtering, preparing for the next use. A familiar voice comes over the intercom, loudly.

“Good show, Gentlemen. Nice comeback. Get back to your racks for a few hours rehab before your guard shifts. We'll get your boys to the medbay, and you'll see 'em in the morning.” Walcott sounds pleased, but the team is upset, disappointed with their own Team Captain and his serious lack of ability in these pressing matters. All of them were asking themselves, if he reacted this way in a mock mission, even if it was just one event out of the twenty five or so they'd already run, what would happen if he fractured like this out in the field?

The mental image isn't a good one, and all of them are left wondering in muted silence.

Later that day, Jack is moved into Gabriel's room, and the two are made partners.

 

“That was... ah... Pretty impressive, what you did today.” Jack says as he enters the small living room. Gabe is reclining on the couch, his feet up on the opposite end, having gotten used to being alone over the last few days. He looks up, away from the show playing on the holo-tele, to Jack, who's standing there with his few things; spare fatigues, sleeping clothes, a few mem-chips of his own.

“Someone had to pick up the slack, or else we were all going down. I'm not about to let my record look bad because Fisher damn near shit himself.” Reyes grumbles. Jack heads into the opposite room from Gabriel's and starts setting down his things.

“Where did you learn all that?” He asks as he changes. He doesn't bother to shut the door, or even swing it slightly, leaving Gabriel with an eyeful of gorgeous white blond to gawk at.

And gawk he does, for a good, solid moment, struggling to pull his attention back to the tele. Jack is unexpectedly _ripped,_ from head to toe, and what body hair sits on his body is so fine and so blonde that it may as well not even be there. Reyes sucks in a breath, murmuring a faint “ _Dios mio”_ under his breath before he finally looks away. But, Jack's staring at him.

_What was that, he wonders?_

“Ya hear me?” Jack asked abruptly.

“What? Uh. No. What happened?” Gabe only just now realizes he's been asked a question.

“...I asked where you learned that. The strategy I mean. It's like you've worked in that condition before.”

“oh... Not exactly.” Gabe says, fondling the remote to the tele so that it rewinds back to the scene he'd left off at before his minor distraction. Jack emerges from the room wearing loose sleeping pants and a fitted black t-shirt almost identical to the one Gabe has on. _J. Morrison. 76._ Gabe sits up, giving Jack room to join him, and he does.

“When I was in the army before, we occasionally had situations where we broke away from our squad and had to make tough calls. I got good at doing that, that's all. You uh... Did pretty good. Better than I expected.”

“So... You were watching me, were you?” It's a double-edged question, and the two men look at each other, knowing the implication there. It's a joke, but it makes Gabriel snort all the same, and he looks away.

“Yeah, you'd like that, pretty boy.” He scoffs. Jack laughs, and they're both left smiling for a moment or two, before the show takes their interest entirely.

 

That night, Gabriel can't sleep. He's restless, and though he's sure it has something to do with evaluations, it's not the missions that are stuck in his mind.

It's that image of Jack with his perfect jaw, perfect hair, flawless features and bright blue eyes charging into battle like he was one of the goddamn bullets. It's the mental image of Jack climbing into his bed and rolling his body up against Gabe's that keeps him awake.

_“Fuck.”_ Gabriel murmurs to himself before rolling over abruptly in his bed. _Goddamnit, Reyes, get that blond pretty boy out of your head. He's a distraction, nothing more._

But for all of his self coaching, he fails miserably, and it's only a few minutes before his left hand is sliding itself down his own torso, feeling, prying, teasing at the light growth of hair and tracing against his own nipples. They're already a little tough under his touch, and cause goosebumps to form on his flesh. _Goddamnit,_ he nearly curses himself out. _Fine. Fuck. Let's just get this shit out of our system and get it over with._ He stops wasting time, and lets his hand traverse down to the thicker trail of soft pubis that rubs down beneath the hem of his trousers. He's blushing, and already a little ashamed of the stiffened erection that tents his sleeping trousers like sweatpants. Strong left hand, callused and rough, smooths over the bulge and makes the man gasp quietly into the air. Enough is enough, he decides, ceasing his teasing and slipping his fingers past the hem and down into his boxers, pressing against his warm, throbbing flesh. Opposite hand slips down, tugging the trousers down just enough to expose himself, hissing slightly at the rush of cooler air. His hand is quick to soothe it, palm pressing against the shaft and working down from the tip.

Now, another, unexpected moan slips past his lips, and its a little bit louder than he intended for it to be. Quickly, he shuts his lips and stills, trying to listen for any sound of stirring. When nothing echoes back at him, he continues. Fingers wrap fully around himself and begin to stroke, teasing and shifting, ghosting over the most sensitive nerves and making him breath hotly into the air. His eyes pinch shut and his pace quickens. His legs tighten and every muscle on them starts to stand out, toes curling. The man's breathing seems to break into a sprint and he turns his head, burying it into the pillow to muffle the sounds of himself as he gets off to the idea of Jack sitting on his lap, riding his cock like he's meant to be there. In his mind, Gabriel can almost see the look on Jack's perfect face, the smile, the need...

The vulnerability. The idea of _dominating_ Jack is what does him in, and suddenly his hips are bucking furiously into his hand, his teeth damn-near tearing into the pillow. Hot breath pants against it, his brows knitted, a growl shuddering out of him into the fabric. It's been months since he's been this riled up, this needy, and god, if it wasn't embarrassing to him that it was to some could-be jock with a dashing smile. Gabriel comes undone in his hand, his body trembling, his cock throbbing against his palm until it suddenly jerks, and a long, crooning moan pulls out of him into the pillow. He manages to cup his hand around the tip, catching the evidence before it can soil his bed. The last thing he wants is for the maids to find it and have to clean it up. Still panting, his free hand fumbles for a tissue from a nearby end table and manages the mess. Minutes later, the man's completely passed out, spent and satisfied.

 

~

 

When Reaper stirs at long last, he's anything but tired. He's nervous, uncomfortable and _hard._ It's the following morning after his tour, and he's had his first actual restful night of sleep in what feels like weeks. A bed, _his_ bed. All of his clothing is gone, removed the night prior, and rests nearly folded nearby. It was a habit, he supposed, to keep moderately tidy. The sheets are smooth against his skin, making him exhale a sigh. Black smoke seeps from between his lips, and off of his exposed face. Pushing himself up, he throws the sheets aside and glances towards the screen on the left side of his bed, the large wall screen. It's still on the desaturated forest scene, but the bottom right corner lists not only the date, but also the time, temperature, and weather. It's 24 degrees, Celsius, which immediately tells him they're not in the states. It was a start, a least. It's also raining. The lights in his room have changed to reflect the weather on his screen however, the forest with its yellow streamers of sunlight filtering down, brighter than the day before. Gabriel rushes to take a cold shower before his arousal can get the better of him, the images of younger days, happier days haunting him like old ghosts.

_I'm not that man anymore,_ he tells himself as he cleans himself off and wraiths soundlessly back into his attire. As he does, it seems to simply evaporate from where it's folded and expands onto his form, a trick many magicians would kill to have. As he's finishing up, there's a buzz over the intercom on his room.

“...Reyes?” The voice is gentle, inquisitive. Angela. He drifts past the door, his feet never quite becoming solid, but his claws slide across the button, admitting her entry, despite that he cannot simply do the same to let himself out.

The doctor admits herself without a word, landing on him as he stands near an end table, his hood still up, he turns to lean against it, regarding her. “Ah... good morning, Gabriel.” She says, but he does not reply, setting his jaw as he looks at her. Awkwardly, she shifts in her spot and moves just inside the door, letting it close behind her. “I came because Genji said you could probably use me. He said you had asked for something to drink.”

“Is that a problem?” He asks, his voice refusing to give anything away.

“N-No.” She stammers, turning her back to his dresser, which is empty, and leaning against it. Her arms cross loosely to keep her from fumbling. “It's just that... I guess... None of us actually know what you _do_ drink. Or can drink. Or... Consume, really. We just know that you don't really eat _conventional_ fair. Will you come and talk with me? Ah... Somewhere else?”

“Sick of being under ground, or are you afraid of being alone with me?”

_Both,_ Angela's mind screams at her, but she doesn't voice this, instead, she fakes a smile.

“I need to run some tests on you... If that's alright. Small things, nothing too invasive. And, if...” She glances at the dresser she's leaning against, shrugging. “Well, it's just... Well. You're here now, aren't you, Reyes? You don't have to dress like this, now. We can take your measurements. Have something else brought.” She glances at the bed. “...And the assistants have refused to come in here while you're here... So if you want black and red sheets, you'll have to leave.” And beneath his mask, Reaper smirks. So, Genji was listening after all.

“Alright.” He says, and tips his head at the door. She goes to it, lets them out, and he follows after her. This time, the main room, the room Ziegler calls 'the lounge' has a large display up of a coral reef of some kind, and the lights in the room flicker varying shades of blue, making them feel submersed once more. As they enter the elevator, his eyes turn down, and he finds himself compelled to speak.

“You keep calling me that.” He starts.

“Calling you-”

“Gabriel. Reyes. Why?”

“It is who you are.”

“Is it?” He asks, as they start the long ascent upwards.

She turns to him, looking into the pits of his mask. “Why wouldn't it be? I know who you are. You are the same man.”

“But who are we without our memories, our experiences. We're then only what we've _done._ ” He replies. “So tell me then, Doctor. _IF_ I do not remember who I am, or what I did before who I am now, does who I used to be apply at all? I am still _Reaper._ You seem to be forgetting that, or perhaps you're ignoring it. You brought me here because you think I can be... saved.” His hand waves as if what she's hoping for is mere magic. A fairy tale. “You think that beneath my mask there's still some man you knew, and not simply who I have become. Why? Jack has already given up hope in me, but you haven't.”

“Jack is... a complicated man. His relationship with you was complicated more so.”

“I _know_ what it was.”

“ _Do you now?_ ” She asked, suddenly interested. “Do you mean to tell me that suddenly you know what you were to each other before the fall of Overwatch? Or before that? Can you honestly tell me that you know every detail of it enough that you can so easily judge him for having given up as he has? Can you, Reaper?” She has gained a modicum of strength and it reflects in her words. He looks down at her, holding his ground.

Finally, he looks away.

“I know that we were intimate once. At least.”

To which, Mercy snorts, her brows loft at him.

“ _Yes, at least once.”_ She echoes dumbly, before the doors open and she leads him out. They head down to the medbay, and she takes him down a sterile white corridor that feels much newer than the rest of the facility. It occurs to him that she's taking him to a private work area of her own.

“Give him time, Gabriel. He'll come around, as soon as he sees that you're in there. _And so will you.”_ She comforts casually, easily able to put aside how he tortured her before. He finds himself mildly insulted by it, but knows that the injuries he inflicted upon her were far more mental than physical. Even if she still feels them, he wouldn't see them on the surface. What he can see is the immaculate and detailed quality of her 'office' as it were. High cabinets with translucent cerulean glass hold prisoner any number of bottles and medications and various tools, along with what she's got on the counter. But, there's no body-anatomy charts or any of the stereotypical doctor's posters. Instead, she has herbs growing in plants on shelves along one wall that sits beside a narrow window that lets in light and a small view of an envirodome it's connected to. She motions him to a seat and begins preparing her work station with a few syringes as she too sits, taking rest on a white swiveling stool at the counter. The chair he sits on reminds him of a dentist's chair, with a light overhead and a reclining back, colored dark blue. Despite that it can recline, he sits upright all the same, feeling strange with his legs dangling off the floor. He feels like a child, and immediately regrets sitting at all. The soles of his boots seek solace, kicking over one of the regular metal seats nearby and placing themselves upon it, the screeching sound of metal against marble flooring causes her to look back at him. She smirks faintly. “ _Not Gabriel. Hah.” She says it like there's no bigger joke._

“What tests are we doing?” He asks finally, interrupting her.

“Blood tests, mainly. If I'm going to be able to help you, I need to know specifically what I'm working with. When I can see what your blood is doing, then I can start working on a plan.”

“A plan? For what? What exactly do you think you can do?” The tone is beyond skeptical.

Her blue eyes pierce back onto him and she smiles, leaning forward. “You asked me moments ago what it is that makes a person. You said it's their memories, their experiences, and in the absence of those two, it's their deeds... You may not think you're Gabriel Reyes, but I know you are. I'm going to show you that. I am going to try and bring back your memories, if I can.” She smiles almost sweetly and motions at his gauntlet. “But first, I need your blood. Take that off. I need to get to a vein.”

Gabriel stares at her soundlessly, then reaches down to start undoing it, and soon, his hand is freed, and he sets it aside. She can see that his skin is a little paler than when they picked him up a few days ago. “It won't work.” He protests as his arm is extended. She glances down at him, then back at her tools as she prepares to take the sample.

“And why not?”

“It's... part of me. It wont stay.”

“It will stay in these bottles, no differently than you stayed in those handcuffs.” She utters shortly. More high level technology, he deduces. He says nothing for a moment, eyes narrowing.

“I can't _heal_ without it.” He finally replies.

“I'm not taking much, and you'll get it back. I promise.” Her voice is smooth, confident, but Reaper doesn't reply. The idea of parting with a piece of himself, even if for a little while, weakening himself further, bothers him. Still, he's quiet. “Let me ask you something, Reaper. Do _you_ think that you are Gabriel?” She asks as she primes the needle. Reaching out, she gently touches his wrist, the skin cold to her touch, and turns it over so that she can get to the crook of his elbow. She douses it with a swab of alcohol before drawing the needle close. “In your memories... Does it feel like you, or like you're watching someone else?”

As it pricks his skin, the man doesn't even flinch or seem to notice at all. “It's me.” he replies, smoke drifting up both from his mask, and from the small puncture she's made. “He and I... We're one in the same... I feel like I have always been Reaper... And Gabriel has always been me.”

“You haven't said a truer thing since you arrived.” She says as she begins to draw blood. In the bottle, it's dark and strangely hued and swirls, a mix of red and black, vaguely shimmery. She spoke as she did this, elaborating. “Sometimes you came to me on your rougher days. You had rage issues. Bad ones. You had developed this... other personality. This thing you called Reaper. You said you felt like sometimes it was taking over you. You confided in me, and we worked through it. Every time I offered to give you drugs to help with the mood swings, though, you adamantly refused. You said you needed it to... to help you do your work.” She shrugged some. “So we got by, but I always knew that you and he were one in the same. Over time, it seemed to bother you a little less. Like somehow you'd found a balance.” She looked up then to his face, not that she could see it, wishing that she could. “Seems to me that the balance has tipped.” And they pause. Neither of them say anything, as Reaper debates over her words, over the glimpse into his past she's given him.

She draws the needle away, glancing at the skin then as it bleeds only a dot before it stops.

“Gabriel... For any of this to work, I need to know that you want to change. I need to know that you _want_ this help. You must understand that you cannot accomplish anything here to help Talon. I want to trust you... I do. But I cannot. Not yet. You need to show me, and them, that you're here because you want to be. Do you? _Do you_ want to know who you were? And would you want to be him again, or do you simply want to stay the same?”

He feels lectured almost, and feels his stomach turn. These are questions he was not yet ready for. “I do not want to help Talon.” He finally says, reaching for his gauntlet, but she stops him, her hand resting on the back of his knuckles. She primes another needle, making it clear that she needs more. He relaxes, then looks away, letting her prick him again. “I do want to know who I was before. That is the _only_ reason I'm here. Not to help you, not to help Overwatch, not to overthrow Talon... None of it. I just want to simply _exist._ ” he growls, feeling his anger seep back into his voice. “I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be this way, it's just how I _am_ now. I don't care about what I did before, or what you're all doing here. Whether or not I want to be that man depends entirely upon who I turned out to be, doesn't it?” His head turns sharply back towards her. “Now are you going to tell me, that if I refuse to help Overwatch, that you'll refuse to help me?” he asks finally, fingers curling slightly. Mercy looks down, she's a little saddened by what she hears.

“I'm not suppose to offer my aid freely to people we don't know... By your accounts, if you're not Gabriel and I don't know you. The others would be upset if they knew you had no intention of staying here after we have helped you...”

“So?”

“So I'm going to help you anyway.”

“Why?” His voice is more insistent. “I can piece together everything else, but I cannot seem to figure out why it is you want to help me so bad. You speak very fondly of a man who was torturing you less than a week ago.” Reaper reminds.

She looks up, setting aside the second needle, filled.

“Because _I_ have faith in who you are, Gabriel. I know who you were. I know that once you see who that was... Once you learn everything that happened, you won't _want_ to leave. You need us as much as we need you.”

It's the first time anyone's said that they needed him at all in an especially long time. His mind struggles to recall when it was last spoken towards him.

“ _Why do you need me?”_ He asked finally, and Angela shuts down like a lead door.

“I can't tell you that. Not yet.”

“You mean to use me, as one of your special agents? You intend to induct me back into your little... troupe?” He near seethes.

“ _No_ , Gabriel.” She interrupts, growing angry and moving away with her vials. “The truth is far more simple than that. You're not merely some tool, you're not just... some device that we can wield. That's what you were to Talon, but not to us.”

“And what am I, then?”

 

“Family.”

 

Her words shock him even still. He's reminded of the words she spoke while he had her chained up to the glass, tears streaming down her cheeks as she yelled at him with all of her strength. “I made a promise once that I would never give up on you, or anyone in this company... And I won't. Even when everyone else has thrown away what they valued so much... I cannot. As I said before, I am part of the reason you're like this... And I will do whatever I can to see it put right.” Her blue eyes look back at him, and he's looking back at her, wordless. Slowly, he reaches up under his hood, his fingers click at the back of the mask and it comes undone, and he draws it away from his face.

For the first time, Mercy is able to see him as he used to be. The wicked teeth are gone, the black and red eyes, replaced with familiar chestnut hues, flecked with red. She can recognize him more easily now than she could the first time he took off his mask in front of her. He sets it aside, on her counter.

“Will you tell me what you did to make me like this?” He asks, his eyes carry something different. There's no rage, but something like sadness and disgust. The doctor's features soften some.

“When I can, Gabriel... Yes. I will tell you how. And then... After everything is done, and I've done all I can for you... If you still desire to leave, I will let you leave.”

“Is that the truth?” he asks. “Am I not simply a prisoner here?”

“You are not a prisoner, no... You might be surprised to find that many of the measures we're taking are to keep _you_ safe, as opposed to them. There are many within Overwatch who would have much rather executed you than extend you this... Olive branch, as it were.”

“Jack wants me dead. So does Genji, despite his attempts to hide it.”

She smiles sadly. “Yes, that's true... But, then, you did tear off his fingernails.” Gabe looks away, sighing.

“ _A method. Besides, he wanted my head before that.”_

“The explosion was difficult for everyone. It will take time for people to adjust to you being here. As you said, your actions have labeled who you are. People are not so easy to forget what you've done.” She trails off, looking back at Gabe's hands and then his face as he puts the gauntlet back on.

“You mentioned drinks.” he says, changing the topic. “And clothing.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. You see many of us weren't even sure if you could drink, or if you could, _what_ you could drink. We only know that you don't consume conventional fair, and that those left behind your... reaping seem completely drained, their bodies almost dehydrated of nutrient. You seem you gather something from them. Tell me what you know of that?” She inquires, jotting down notes in her books. The blood samples are quickly stowed away in an icebox to be properly handled later.

“The feeding...” Reaper starts, reaching for his mask again, feeling like it's been off too long, but she stops him again.

“Don't?” She asks, wanting to see his face, rather than the mask that has been so closely related to that of the terrorist. Reluctantly, he releases the mask and sits back some.

“The feeding is just... Something that I must do. It's something that happens without my knowing, without my control when I kill. I've... recently discovered that it doesn't have to even be people I've killed, or people who have died immediately... She... Ah...”

“Amelie?”

“...Widowmaker.” He corrects quietly. _How did Ziegler know her name?_ “She took me to a place. A mortuary, I think.”

“And you were able to feed there?”

“Yes. To my fill.”

“Interesting. That may be an avenue we need to explore... Obviously we don't have anyone for you to kill here.” She says in an almost teasing voice, trying to make light of the grizzly nature of his survival. He doesn't laugh, so she coughs a quiet, “ _Sorry.”_ She jots down a few more notes. “Anyway. When I saw you before... You were very pale. Dark eyes... Teeth. I am to assume you were starving then?”

“Yes.”

“This happens every time you need to feed?”

“Yes.” His voice starts to sound monotonous, he's growing exhausted with all the clinical talk. Finally, she moves to stand, sensing that and motioning him. “Come with me. Let's go for a walk. You can tell me more there.” She leads him out, and he snatches his mask off the counter and quickly places it back on. She leads him up and out of the facility, onto a path that circles the entire facility. Up towards the landing pad, there's a path that leads north along what reveals itself to be a cliff face. The rock is a sheer drop straight down, stone colored varying shades of grey and seams of red stain. Lush greenery hangs over the sides and a breeze whips at her hair and his coat. The scent of salt and sand is strong here. The ocean, he realizes, a plethora of lagoon greens and blues.

“We're in the pacific.” He states casually.

“Well done. How did you deduce that?” She asks.

“It's the water. The color. The breeze. The tropics. It's like Hawaii...” But his eyes lift, trying to gauge the sun. “But we're too far south to be in the Philippines...” His mind does the math for him, carefully picking out all of the places he can.

“So... off the coast of Australia somewhere. New Zealand, maybe?”

“Close.” Angela says as they walk.

“You're not meant to tell me this, are you?” He questions, glancing down at her. She chuckles.

“No. But what can it hurt? You cannot fly, and you cannot communicate with anyone off island. What do you know of New Zealand?”

“I know it's more populated than this. And not as tropical.”

“So?”

“So we're in Fiji.” He deduces at long last. Her smile is promising, appraising. “Just as sharp as I remember, Gabriel. Come then. Tell me more about you. About your abilities. About feeding, and how you recover?” But he hesitates. Does he want to trust her with this? She's already trusted him thus far...

“Feeding heals me directly. If I go too long without feeding, I degenerate. My body cant keep itself together the way it's suppose to... This... smoke, I guess, is what I become. My whole body. Long enough without feeding, or a great enough injury and I'm useless to everyone. The longer I wait to feed, the more I become... that... thing you saw me as before. There's more to it than what you saw, but I suppose that doesn't matter.”

“It does matter. I need to see what it does to you.”

“You intend to let me starve to see for yourself?” He asks a little sharply, slowing his step. She slows with him and turns to look at him, wind pulling her white hair into her face somewhat.

“It isn't something that I want either, Gabriel... But I need to know what can happen. I need to see all the stages. I have to document you.”

“ _I am not some kind of project, Ziegler.”_ He rumbles a little venomously.

“No.” She agrees, stepping forward. “Of course you're not. You're my patient. Trust me, Reyes. I'll not let you die. Not as long as I can.”

For a long moment, they stare at each other, until eventually he starts walking again.

“I drink scotch, or whiskey, or bourbon. Anything. Even vodka.”

“Alcohol? To remedy what, exactly? Mental trauma? Sleeping trouble?”

“Pain.” He adds.

“Pain. So being inebriated... It helps?”

“...Its never really to that level.” He says, sighing some. They've reached the other side of the base now, inland, away from the cliffs, and can look in on one of the three Envirodomes. Inside, there's assistants running and playing tennis. They're oblivious to the two outside the walls. “I never really... Get drunk. I don't think I can.” He explains after a moment, looking from them back to her. They're standing in the shade now, and he all but disappears into it, his silhouette caught in her blue eyes, his mask giving him away with ease. He's moved away to the base of a thick tree, and now leans against it. She follows him slowly, and as he sags down to a crouch, she does similar.

“We'll have to do some tests, then. Still, if it helps you, I can have something sent to your room.” She offers. His eyes stare longingly inward at the dome, at the people there. They seem so innocent, so casual... So lucky in their seemingly simple lives. Angela follows his gaze and seems to understand. Pity sinks into her, but she doesn't let it show, knowing it will infuriate him. Perhaps some day she could bring him that. A casual life.

_Baby steps, Angela._ She smiles to herself.

“What about clothing?” the femme asks after a moment.

“I need something to sleep in.”

“...And something more... casual, I imagine. Genji told me about yesterday. You can't expect to keep going around in this, can you? All theatrics aside, it could get quite... _hot.”_

Tilting his head towards her, the man gives her a long, harsh sort of stare before he looks away once more. “The hot and cold barely affects me. It affects me more when I'm well fed. But these... This attire... It's not just _clothing_ , Ziegler. It's bound to me.”

“...Bound to you? Whatever do you mean? You can't take it off?”

“Of course I can.” he hisses, incidentally sharply. “It's just...” He tries not to sound as brutal as he has become so used to, but even this is difficult. “If I touch it, I can take it with me when I wraith. I can teleport with it too, but when I teleport...”

“The bigger, the harder it is to move.” The doctor interrupts. “I saw it, when you moved Widowmaker. I saw the aftermath. It made you very sick, didn't it? Almost killed you?”

He pauses, then nods. “Yes. Anyway... This clothing, the cloak, the boots... All of it. It goes with me. I woke up in them.”

“Woke up in them? Today?”

“N-..” He looks at her, eyes narrowed. It occurs to him that she doesn't know how he started with Talon. “No. Not today. When I first gained consciousness with Talon. The first memory I have of them, I was wearing all of this. For these, when I ghost, they can go with me, even if I'm not touching them. I can't do that with normal clothing, only if I'm wearing it.”

“And you can move them onto you, with you, at will?”

“Yes.”

“But not normal things.”

“No. I can ghost _into_ normal things, but that's the extent. My tactical gear has been modified to work specifically with my body, my attributes... I cannot simply get rid of it.” But there's a tone to his voice that suggests he doesn't want to get rid of it. The ensemble is part of him, part of his reputation, his image that he relates to himself, and he _won't_ lose that. Angela understands, and doesn't press the issue except to add a minor reply.

“Then I will see about something to sleep in... And something more casual. Something you can wear when you're not needing to... Be tactical, I suppose. Does that suit you, Gabriel?”

“A hood, Angela. I don't need people to gawk at my face. _What's left of it._ ”

Quietly, her smile saddens again, but she nods, and moves to stand.

Turning to him, Angela extends her hand down to him and for a moment, it seems like he wont take it. But then he does, and he stands to continue walking with her. They walk in quiet for the remainder of the perimeter, his mind drifting. Perhaps this could be what he seeks. An answer to his questions, and the option to leave if it doesn't suit him.

_And what about our revenge,_ Reaper seems to ask in the back of his mind.

Revenge. The one thing that's been keeping him going this entire time.

Surely, they wanted revenge too, or something like it. Justice- revenge under a different name.

 

Justice. _Do you think we'll ever move on from this, Widow? From what we've done?_

 

Well. At least one of them had.

The sweet touch of death had called her home, leaving him behind.

 

What did he have to lose by seeing where this rabbit hole lead?

 

As they arrive back at the front of the facility, Angela lets him wander near to the cliffs where he seems to stand and stare outward for a long moment, moderately alone as she waits beside, some feet back. The sound of footsteps approaching alert her, and she glances to her side. A sharp jawline, blue eyes and white hair interrupt her vision.

“ _Do you think this is safe?_ ” Jack asks, out of earshot of Reaper.

“Safer than you give it credit for, Jack. You do not cure a sick animal by backing it into a corner, threatening it with a needle.” She turns to face him, smiling gently. “You convince the beast that it _wants_ to be cured. Do it enough and it will take the needle from you and cure itself. Give him time. _Give him a chance._ ”

_“And what if the beast turns rabid again and traitors us all? What then, Angela?”_

“Then, Jack Morrison?” She looks away from him, back to the shade. “If that happens, and I fail... Then you can abandon me to my death, as you have him.”

 

Jack is stung by the words and feels hurt and anger come into his veins. His eyes focus on the pair as Angela comes back up to Reaper's side and convinces him to come back inside. Jack turns away, his eyes downcast.

 

_Could she be right about Reaper?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all co much for reading! I hope that I'm keeping you all fascinated! =)


	12. Remedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Suicide topics/themes.

Rain hailed against the walls of the tropical base, inaudible to all those within. The gardens were vacant today, the grounds soaked. Employees came and went from small white shuttles, fetching what few supplies they needed from the very distant mainland.

Jack sat in his room on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers folded together, lips pressed against them as he stared across the back of his knuckles out into the rain. There was no music, no video playing, no theme to his room where it sat on the first level of the base, kept away from almost everyone else. It was a temporary home away from home, a brief respite from what the soldier was so often used to.

Reaper had been here a week now, a barely-seen wraith that ghosted from place to place, always with an escort. If he wasn't with Genji, he was with Angela. More than once, Jack had seen the shade look in his direction. What thoughts could be going on behind the emotionless mask he wore? Even with the new clothing that Ziegler had gotten him, a dark hoodie, dark pants and belts, he wore the mask. It was like he wanted to hide his face, as if his eyes would give away his true emotion. That might have been a little startling to some, and it was, but for Jack, it was startlingly characteristic of the man he once knew. Gabriel had always been secluded about his inner turmoil, and not one to give away so easily what he thought or felt.

Now he was here, and the more Jack watched him, the more he began to wonder as Mercy had, if Reyes was still in there, if there was still a possibility somehow that he could be saved.

No, Jack thought. Of course he couldn't. Look at all that he had become, and everything he'd done. Reaper was a psychopathic murderer without feeling or remorse. He was a monster without true focus, with improper calibration. Talon would like to take credit for the weapon that Reaper had become, but Jack knew the truth.

The truth being that in his heart, in his soul, Gabriel had always been a little broken.

Gabriel had always needed revenge for an inconsolable loss, an inability to cope with what had become of his family, and so, his life. Talon had not turned Gabriel into this monster.

No.

Grief had done this.

And Jack was convinced that it would get worse before the end was reached.

 

There was a time when Jack had wanted to put everything aside, put down their weapons and quietly hide themselves away together, away from the world, and grow old men, side by side in each other's arms. Once upon a time, it was all Jack had ever wanted.

Did Reyes know, he wondered, that at the end of Overwatch, Jack still saw him that way? That gleaming example of superiority and strength, of determination and raw power? Did Reyes know, as he was stabbing them in the back, that Jack still dreampt of him every night, and thought of a better place to be, in a different time?

Well Jack _had_ grown old. Ages had passed since then, and he'd watched Gabriel go from hero, to bad to worse, until he was barely recognizable as the man he'd fallen in love with in SEP. Now, a ghost paraded in Gabriel's body. A body Jack had once held so near and dear to him, a body that had committed now horrendous acts not only against humanity, but nature itself. A creature like Reaper that could become the shadow incarnate and consume the very _souls_ out of people as they died was the essence of unnatural. That's what the media touted, anyway. No one could argue that victims left in Reaper's wake were shells of what they were prior. Even now, as Angela did tests on his blood, no one was really quite sure how his ability worked.

Gabriel would be outraged, mortified if he could see how he was now, Jack was sure. If he could see the clarity of what he was doing and how he'd accomplished all of it. If Gabriel knew, he wouldn't want to still be alive. He would hate what he'd become so thoroughly, that he would opt to remove himself from the equation. Death, or something like it, Jack imagined.

It was a mercy that no one else seemed willing or capable of giving him.

Jack, if he did one thing in his life more before he died, would see that Gabriel was laid to rest as well. They had all mourned him, and he was convinced that Gabriel had been long since dead when that happened. The psychosis he suffered had finally taken over him. How could Jack _not_ blame himself for that? Hadn't he been Gabe's closest confidant, lover, and friend? Shouldn't he have been the one there to help Gabe through the mental torment that had brought him to this point?

But he had failed.

And here he was now, trying to finish cleaning up his mess.

 

But Angela was so persistent. If she wasn't completely enamored with Genji, he might have suspected her of being in love with Gabriel as well. He knew such wasn't the case, but he knew that the weight she bore for Reaper's creation was just as heavy, if not a little stronger, than his own.

 

It was then that Jack spotted him.

Reaper was a distant, black blur against the horizon, standing at the base of the cliffs. Jack might have mistook him for someone else, if the black miasma of his form hadn't drifted off of him through the rain and the fog, buffeted against the rush of air that came up from the cliffs with each shift in the currents. He was alone. Why was he alone? Reaper was said to have an escort at all times, yet, here he was. Jack's eyes narrowed and he shifted at once, throwing on a shirt and his signature jacket, snatching up his pulse rifle.

The soldier headed out into the rain then without any hesitation, no warning, approaching behind the wraith as quietly as he was able. Rain bathed over his form, soaking his white hair, into his flesh. Reaper's head was lifted skyward, his dark hoodie drenched in the rain, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Simple black combat boots on his feet, laced up... For a moment Jack began to wonder if it was him at all. But then, an exhale revealed a small black cloud, giving him away.

Jack wasn't quiet enough, however, as Reaper shifted only slightly, his head looking down over the side of the cliff as he heard the sound of feet on the stone pavement behind him. Reaper sighed once more.

“Go back inside, Jack.” Reaper said, his voice different somehow. Almost defeated.

“You're not suppose to be out here.” Jack growled, his voice punctuated by the click of his rifle, making its presence known. He already had it up and primed, aimed at the back of the man's head. Rain continued to pummel between them in steady sheets.

“It's wet. You'll catch cold. Angela wouldn't like that.” Reaper persists. They both know that the temperature doesn't actually cause colds. He doesn't move, doesn't even turn to see the man there, his white hair, his scar, his eyes. There have been so many memories shifting around in his head that he's not sure he wants to see Jack again.

“ _I'll heal._ ” Jack hissed back, “What are you doing here, Reaper?” He insists.

“What are _you_ doing here, Jack? You've got better things to do. People to save, haven't you?”

“ _That's exactly what I'm doing here.”_ Jack snaps, his aggressive tone making it clear that he thinks he's protecting others by putting Reaper under his gun. Finally, the shade turns to face him, the mask still on, sharply primed upon the vigilante. They stare at each other, the space between them, a barely tangible truce that feels it could be broken at any moment. “I don't know how you got out of your room, or what you're doing out here-”

“I walked, Jack. No different than you.”

“Your room is locked-”

“Yes, it was, until Angela unlocked it for me. You cannot expect me to remain a prisoner forever.”

“So you're going to try to escape then? And then what? Go back to your Talon? Go put some flowers on your sweetheart's grave?” Jack is venomous with his words, and they strike a deep chord within Reaper. The man is suddenly stalking forward, his left hand fleeing his coat. Jack can see the black claws that have taken place on his fingertips. “Stop!” He barks in warning, raising the rifle again. But, Reaper doesn't. He walks right up to the muzzle of Jack's rifle, his hand landing on it and priming it over his chest.

“ _Do me the favor.”_ Reaper hisses sharply through the rain. He sounds desperate, unafraid.

_He wants to die._

 

This gives Jack serious pause, and his eyes search the mask, unsure. Slowly, he backs away, leaving Reaper standing there, their eyes are locked, or as locked as they could be.

_If Gabriel knew, if he had seen what he'd done..._

Jack feels his emotions seize up in his chest, his fingers tremble on his gun slightly.

_Gabe?_

Suddenly, Reaper is moving away, stalking back the way he'd come, back towards the way his room is kept.

“Reaper!” Jack yells, and over the rain, Reaper can hear him, but he has no idea why, or what he would say to him, so he stops.

Reaper pauses... His eyes downcast, he turns his head so that he can talk over his shoulder.

“I'm going, Soldier... And Jack?” The man breathes, each word hissing out black mist. Jack can't reply properly, but grunts, his aim still primed on the shade.

“ _Don't you ever speak of Widow that way again.”_ Reaper's threat is a real and tangible thing. His voice is harrowing and deep, a familiar, rage-filled timbre.

He loved her, didn't he? That's all that Jack can think. By the way he moves, reacts, the things he's said... It seems obvious to him. Perhaps Reaper has completely forgotten about he and Jack after all. The man he knew? Gabriel? Dead, just as he thought. Reaper disappears into the elevator of the building some distance away, drenched and upset. Jack is left standing there, quiet and lost in thought, somehow hurt, confused.

Eventually, he moves back to his room, too. His jacket removed, his gun put away, he reaches for one small piece of comfort.

It's stuffed under his pillow, a small, innocent seeming scrap of cloth.

A well worn grey beanie. His fingers smooth over it and press it against his palm. If he lifts it up, he can imagine Gabe's scent, but it's been far too long, and the smell is nothing more than a memory, something musky but comforting, strong like leather and gunpowder.

 

Death would have been the easy way out, but Gabriel hasn't experienced anything yet that's done the trick. Even jumping right off the cliffs themselves wouldn't have done it, he knew. Was he at that point now? Was the pain of what he felt worth dying over? The more that came back, the worse he felt... But there were some memories that kept him going. Memories that made him want to see how the rest of the story panned out before deciding whether or not to join Widow in death. How was it so easy for Jack to bring her up like that? Obviously Reaper had cared about her. She was his only friend. She had confided in him before the end. She had found a way to bring some relief to him, if even briefly. At least Mercy had taken some pity on him and let him out of his cage for the day. A show of trust, she had said, and had begged him not to make her regret it.

Now he was back in his room, removing his mask and drenched hoodie, setting the former aside and hanging up the latter in his bathroom for it to drip dry. He leans over the sink, soaking his hands and hair in hot water and letting it bathe over his face, combing it through his hair that now hangs slightly forward with a few weeks of neglect. It grows, but very slowly. Now, the longest of the strands hang in front of his eyes. He snatches a razor off of the side of the sink and gets to work on grooming himself, starting with his slightly haggard beard and working onto his hair. He thinks that by doing this it will help bring back some of his humanity, or at least the feeling of it. Reaper still can't ignore the way his brown eyes have begun to change from their normal nutty hue into inky blackness, and the red rings around his irises are already beginning to take shape.

He vaguely contemplates simply allowing himself to starve to death, since Mercy needs to see him starving anyway. Wouldn't that be easier for everyone involved? He can get away from Overwatch, get away from Talon, avoid the grief not only of what he's lost, but the guilt of what he's done that starts to make itself present in the pit of his stomach.

His mind travels back to the newest memory he'd had that morning.

 

~

 

The other evaluation missions had gone off more or less without a hitch, but because of his aid on the first, Fisher turned to Gabe as something of an adviser, seeing benefit in his foresight and strategy. He'd been beneficial both times, pulling victories through for them. Alas, it wasn't the victories that had Gabe in such better moods. Katie's death is a heavily weighted thing that settles on him, but where she's gone, Jack seems to fill the void, or at least distracts him from the pain.

It was late one night, right after their final meal, when Gabe emerges from their shower, content to sit on their couch and watch some old show, but as he rounds it, he finds Jack passed out on it, still dressed in his fatigues, like he had collapsed there within minutes of arriving in the room. The mental image of it causes Gabriel to laugh, which makes Jack stir somewhat.

“ _Move, Blondie.”_ Gabe rumbles, reaching down to latch his fingers onto Jack's shoulder. He manages to move him just enough that Jack shifts, and Gabe takes his usual seat on the couch and flicks on the tele with a remote. He's flipping through the most recent recordings when suddenly Jack moves again. He's not quite awake, but awake enough that Gabe suddenly finds Jack's arms slipping around him. One drapes across his abdomen while the other slips itself in the gap between Gabe's lower back and the couch, fingers tugging at his opposite side. Morrison has his face pressed up against Gabe's side, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, completely passed out again. For a moment, the darker man is taken aback, glancing down at the man like a parasite latched to his side, using him as a pillow... But he can't bring himself to detach him. He looks _too_ adorable right now, so his arm simply drapes across the back of the couch while the other flips through channels.

“ _Sweet dreams, cariño._ ” Gabe whispers with a contented sigh.

 

Ultimately, he has to shove Jack off of him to get up, and with some struggle, he manages to get the soldier up and back to his own room, his own bed. Jack murmur's a slurred thanks before falling into his bunk and losing consciousness. It didn't take Gabe long to pass out as well, and though he slept well, little can prepare him for the following morning.

 

They're woken earlier than usual, about an hour or so, a loud knock at their door followed by a voice on the intercom. It radiates through their room.

 

“ **Seventy five, answer. Your presence is requested.”**

A few seconds pass. The voice stirs Gabe's mind out of slumber.

 **“SEVENTY FIVE. ANSWER. COLONEL WALCOTT IS REQUESTING YOU.”** Fisher is damn near screaming into the comm.

 

_Oh fuck._

Gabriel launches himself out of bed, throwing himself towards the door. “Y-Yes!” he stammers, slamming his finger on the button. “Yes sir. I will be ready as soon as possible!”

“Thirty seconds, Recruit.” Fisher snaps. Gabe throws on his clothing and grooms his face as quickly as he's able, looking presentable for the Colonel. His eyes flash at the clock.

 _0400 Hours, what the hell?_ Breakfast didn't start until five.

 

He rushes out, and at this point, Jack's awake, stirring, asking questions, but Gabe can't answer, slamming the door shut behind him as he falls into step behind Fisher.

“What's this about, Sir?” Gabe asks, his voice hoarse from just waking up.

“No clue. Either you're in serious fuckin' trouble, or...” The tall brute looks down at Gabe. Fisher is easily six-foot seven, making even the tall six-foot one Gabriel feel dwarfed by comparison. “Ah. Sorry, I guess that's all I've got.” Fisher smirks. He's not exactly a beacon of comfort. They're quiet as they head through the SEP facility towards the nicer section where Walcott's quarters are. Gabe's all but choking on his own saliva with fear. Did they finally find out about what Katie told him? Was he about to be unceremoniously executed? Was he going to be washed away like a failed experiment, and Rosa never told what happened to him like Katie had been? God, he should have called her, Gabe thought. He was in a near panic by the time they arrived.

Fisher presses the intercom on the outside of Walcott's door.

“Sir, this is Fisher. I am here with Seventy-five, per your request, Sir.”

“Ah! Good. Let him in, Soldier.” The colonel's voice is intimidating even over a comm, but he sounds way too awake for four in the morning.

Fisher looks down at Gabe again and clasps him on the shoulder with a smile.

“Hey, thanks for your help in the evaluations. It was good knowin' ya, kid.” Fisher offers like a farewell. _Kid? They were probably very near to the same age_ , Reyes thinks as the door unlocks and he's let in. Fisher shuts it behind him, and his eyes scan the room he's in. It's nothing like the rest of the facility. The walls are made of wood, with shelves and a red rug along the floor. Carved, ornate furniture, two recliners, a desk, and a computer chair behind that. The desk is inlaid with a holo-screen, and a holo-tele sits along one wall. There's shelves with books on them, red curtains over the floor to ceiling windows behind the desk. There's a minibar, too, to his right. There's a door on either side of the room, one open and the other closed. What he can see of the open one reveals an equally ornate, comfortable bedroom. The other had to be a bathroom, he guessed.

 _Christ, was this were murders happened?_ Gabe asked himself this wordlessly. These thoughts are interrupted as the Colonel suddenly strides out of the side room. A bathroom, indeed. He's still in the process of getting dressed, and Gabe feels entirely uncomfortable. Walcott has got his fatigue pants on, and a white tank top undershirt, and his fatigue top is on with all its metals, but it isn't buttoned up yet. Walcott's hair is done, and he's freshly shaven. The man's nonchalance disturbs Gabe.

“Ah! Here you are, Soldier. Good. Have a seat, hm? Would you like something to drink?” he motions the minibar.

 _“Sir, ah... It's four in the morning,”_ Gabe stammers without thinking.

“Phah! Details.” The Colonel muses, heading over and pouring two glasses of brandy. He pushes one into the soldier's hands, and Gabe looks down at it and tips his head.

“Sir, thank you, Sir.” And he only sips after he sees the Colonel do so. _Making sure he wasn't being poisoned._ The alcohol is top tier quality, though Gabe cant remember the last time he had brandy, if ever.

“So! Lets get down to it then, shall we? You're wondering why the hell you're here.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.”

“At ease, Reyes.” The Colonel muses, motioning the recliners. “Have a seat. We're going to talk a while.” And he sits too, drawing the drink up for another taste as Gabe relaxes down into the opposite chair.

Finally, Walcott speaks. “Well lets get to it then. I know you've got things to do today, so I'm not going to take up more of your time than I have to. So, you know about the fights going on in eastern Canada. You know about the evaluation. We've decided to promote Fisher to Captain, something he does not yet know. It was very clear to me during the evaluation that in more than a couple situations, you were key to his success. Do you have previous skill in leading, Son?”

At least in this incident, it seems normal for him to be called Son. Walcott is easily old enough to be his father. Gabriel shrugs a little stiffly. “Minorly, Sir. In the army we were put into a few situations that required an additional head, if we got separated or otherwise. I was never in any formal position of leadership. I just adopted it, I suppose.”

“Ah, a fast learner. Good, I like that. That kind of strategy is hard to find, Reyes. So is someone who can think on the fly and improvise, as you do.” He paused, looking down into his drink. “But see there's one little problem with that.” He took a drink, emptying his glass. “You improvise like you did when Miss Hall decided to spill the beans about our little... organization here, and we might have a _big_ problem, you know what I'm saying?”

Gabe is stunned into absolute silence. Walcott's words have terrified him, he's expecting a pistol to be shoved in his mouth at any moment now, but it doesn't. Walcott must see the fear on Gabe's face, because he raises his hands slightly after setting down his empty glass. Gabe does the same, though he isn't finished with his.

“Now, now. Just calm down, Soldier. I know you didn't think any of us knew about that. The bottom line is that there isn't anything in this facility that goes on that we don't know about. I know you were close to Hall, and I'm pretty sure she shared some classified information with you, though I can't be positive _what_ she told you. I'm not going to ask, but I'm going to make it _very_ clear that that information _cannot and must not_ be shared. If it is... Well.” He shrugged. “I'm afraid I can't help you then.” He's all but clarifying Gabe's assumptions about what happened to Katie after all this. They did remove her. Of course they did. “But I'm trying to do something good for you here, but I have to know that we can trust you. Out of your team, you have the highest marks in athletic and mental capability. You've shown special resilience to the injections and an increased receptivity to them. It makes you a prime candidate to take Fisher's spot as Team Captain. So if you do that, you start leading teams, you start running your own strategies on mock missions. Hone your soldiers to be exactly what you need them to be. This war isn't going to get any easier, and we need all the best men that we can get.” He said, now reaching down into an end table beside his seat and producing a small black box. He opens it to reveal a new medal. It's a little gold shield-shaped pin, marked with his number, sevnty-five. “Now I'm offering this to you, Soldier, but you've gotta do something for me. You've gotta give me your word that you're not gonna suddenly start spouting off whatever it is you know about the organization. Words like what you've got could probably undo everything we're doing here... And then what. Soldier?”

He nods down at the pin. “SEP is the last line of defense against the omnic threat. Bring it down, and the omnics win. Accept this pin, and avenge your brother. That's why you're here, isn't it?” Christ, they really were listening in on everything.

“So what's it going to be, Soldier?” He asks as Gabe has suddenly become very quiet. Inside, he wars with it. Did he support immoral practices, that was experimenting on living human 'volunteers' who may never get to go home or speak to their family again. Corrupt ethics that entail a possibly human victory in the future, or... Allow himself the personal victory of letting Henrique rest in peace? His lips tighten into a thin line.

Gabriel feels the blood begin to boil in his veins. The image of Henrique in his casket, his mother with the belt around her neck, the shattered pieces of his family. Without another word, he reaches out and accepts the black box from Walcott's hand.

_“Victory, at whatever cost, Sir.”_

Walcott offers a wide grin and a triumphant look comes into his eyes.

“Ah! Good man!” he says, moving to stand, buttoning up his fatigues at long last. Gabe takes it as a sign to become formal and stands up as well. Walcott extends his hand for the box, and as it's relinquished, he plucks the pin from the box and reaches out to Gabe's fatigues, fastening the pin above his name and number. He draws back as it's done and salutes Gabe stiffly. Gabriel returns the salute at once.

“Congratulations, T.C. Reyes. I'll have your paperwork put though today, and we'll have you in your new room by tonight. You can put in a request for one personal item that can be brought to you. What would you like it to be, Son?”

For a moment, Gabe thinks, eyes turning down, scanning over the new pin.

“...Sir, I think I'd like a guitar.” He knows he can't have the one from home, that's safely locked away somewhere, but he thinks for a moment that if anything will comfort him, it would be that. Walcott nods.

“Alright, then I think we're do-”

“Sir?” Gabe asks.

“Hm?”

“What will become of my partner, Jack- er... Seventy-Six?”

“Oh. He'll still be your partner, I suppose. He'll still be on your team. He'll just be in a room alone until the numbers even out again.” The way he says _until_ makes Reyes suffer down a shudder, like it's a certainty that more of them will die.

“Thank you, Sir.” Gabriel says, and Walcott shakes his hand.

“I look forward to seeing you in action. Now get out there and tell Fisher I need to see him.”

 

Gabe did exactly that, and after heading back to his room, he bumps into Jack in the hall, on his way to breakfast. Jack stops, glancing from Gabe's face with a smile down to his new, gleaming pin. His eyes pop slightly. Gabriel is suddenly his superior. He snaps to attention and salutes.

“Congratulations, Sir.” Morrison is formal, but there's a look of sadness in his eyes.

Gabe smirks despite himself, and Jack's knees try not to go weak. “At ease, Jack. I'm still your partner. Go and get breakfast. I'll see you in a few minutes.” Then he moves on, cleaning out his things from their room and handing them off to an attendant who will relocate them to his new room. The new quarters, which he realizes he'll be sharing with the other Team Captain, Bennison.

 

When he's finally in them, hours later, he realizes that the rooms are more or less exactly the same as the others. The only difference is the presence of slightly better furniture and slightly bigger rooms, more comfortable beds, and a better bathroom. Bennison, a tall African American man with short cut hair perpetually wears a scowl, grooms himself almost religiously, and per his one personal item? Gabe discovers that its an extremely old, classic game-boy. How the hell it even runs, Gabe doesn't know, but the sounds of it playing midi-file songs echo across their quarters quickly begin to wear on his nerves. Gabe discovers that he wants to destroy the thing.

Within a couple days, a guitar is brought to him. There's nothing fancy about it. It's just a plain black acoustic guitar with a smooth surface. It does the job to drown out the noise Bennison makes from the room next to his. He can't help but to think about home, and about Katie as he plays.

 

~

 

Mercy visits him sometime later after this unexpected meeting with Jack, standing in his doorway for a moment as he emerges from the restroom. She's wearing black pants and a blue top, and over that, a white lab coat. She looks entirely like a run of the mill doctor, especially with her hair back in a low ponytail as it was. He's wearing the pants and tank top that she got for him, a towel draped across his shoulders all of it mildly damp, sucking against his cut frame. His hair is still soaking wet, slicked back over his head, adopting a sort of undercut style for now, as he's shaved the sides of his hair down to a quarter of an inch. Close enough to see his scalp, which bares scars of its own. The shade's eyes are a piercing mix of brown, black, and red... He looks good, despite the hunger that nags at him and makes him move almost aggressively. Mercy is carrying something, a detail that he doesn't neglect as their eyes land on each other. Even now, she is taken aback by the way he looks. His paling skin, his eyes, the scars. But, without his hoodie on to hide the extra shadow, she can see the black outline of ethereal arms, if for a very brief moment. Her eyes dart between where they were, and his expressionless face. In moments, the arms are completely gone, vanished as if they never existed, but Angela isn't convinced. She knows what she saw.

“Those are... new.” She stammers all the same, looking up to his stare, which he has not removed from her from the moment he stepped out.

“They weren't for you.” He growls, and though the voice is rough and almost entirely devoid of emotion, she catches a very slight inflection that indicates he's embarrassed, if even mildly.

“Weren't they? Explain that to me, Gabriel. I'm your doctor.” But he'd already explained this to Widow before, and the idea of repeating himself annoys him. Was he going to have to detail everything to everyone he happened to meet on this happy little reunion trail he seemed to be on?

“Just a side effect.” He rumbles instead, moving away, reaching for his coat. It was just easier to hide them, for now. Blue eyes follow him all the way, but before he can put the coat on, her hand snaps out, latching onto it. Her eyes are on his skin, his muscle tone, which she hasn't seen in any great detail before now. Despite his hunger and his many injuries, she's impressed at how well he's able to keep himself in shape... The small curls of black that drift off of him are an especially Gothic trait that she can't help but find fascinating. At once, the wraith growls, wheeling on her, a cloud of smoke drifting off of his frame and curling with him as he does. His back is to the large forest scene on his wall, silhouetting him as he faces her menacingly.

“What do you _want_ , Angela?” He seethes. Her hand draws back and eyes drift from his frame to his face. The item in her hand is shoved forward into his arms with the resonating sound of glass.

“I have your alcohol.” She said finally, then strengthening her voice, and for now he allows her to pull the coat away from him. Folding it, she sets it on the bed beside her. “You know, I am one of the main people that rallied for you to be brought home, Reyes. I am what's keeping you here. You will need to trust me if you want any help at all. I understand that you might be self conscious over this form but-”

“I am _not_ self conscious.” he uttered darkly, a deep breath expanding his chest with a huff as he defends himself. Once again, the arms take a ghostly shape through his top before they dissipate into small drifts.

“Oh? Then what are you thinking, keeping it from me?” She asks, but before she can continue, he interrupts.

“I think that for someone so tied up with the cyborg, you seem a little too eager to see _me_ and get your hands and needles on me. Like what you see, don't you? That why you keep doing these little favors for me, isn't it?” His dark voice drips with accusation. The doctor is visibly repulsed, taking half a step back from him.

 _“His name is Genji, and he was your friend, Reyes.”_ Angela barks, growing heated.

“Can you _honestly_ tell me that all you are is my doctor, that all you're interested in is helping me? That we were never anything _else_ before?”

 _“Don't be ridiculous!”_ she snaps, cutting him off.

“ _I remember, Angela._ ” He growls, and the way he uses her name makes her flinch. “I remember the way you stopped Jack there in the factory. The way you escaped him to come after me. The way you made him look. Why? What is it that you know that I don't? What do you want from me?” He asks forwardly now. Accusing her of having a romantic interest was nothing more than a method. It was beyond any doubt that she was deeply enamored with the metal assassin, but suggestions like this had a way of making everyone just uncomfortable enough to talk.

“ _It wasn't like that!”_ She hissed angrily, her eyes fierce. “Even if I _was ever_ interested, you were so wrapped up with Morrison that it wouldn't have mattered! I tried to get back to you so that I could see what I had done, and if it could be undone!”

Ah. There it was. Solid confirmation that he'd been an _item_ with Jack, even deep into Overwatch. Deep into Blackwatch, perhaps. Additionally, her true motivation.

Reaper straightens up, one of his brows lofting. The accusing tone in his voice evaporates, along with the better portion of his wicked, malevolent tone.

“There it is.” He smiles, but it's a dark, triumphant sort of thing. Somehow, his entire attitude is familiar all the same. Angela recognizes this and her brows raise, noticing the error of her words, playing right into his manipulation.

“There's... what? Goddamnit, Reyes. Don't play your little mind games with me! You know there are things I cannot tell you.” The doctor's lips form a thin line. She's embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. How easy was it for him to put on such a face? Perhaps this was why he had been put in Blackwatch in the first place, she reminded herself, where his underhanded tricks worked flawlessly.

“How else was I suppose to get the truth out, hm?” His head cants slightly, finally looking down to the alcohol she's handed him. It's a box of different kinds, and he carries the lot over to a small round table that has made its way into his room in the last few days. One clawed hand plucks one out and his eyes scan over its label. Once more, the ghostly appendages reveal themselves in the silhouette if of the forest scene behind him. Angela stares at the man, taken aback by how effortlessly he moves, how casual and familiar it all is. For a moment, it's almost like Gabriel never left. There's unadulterated confidence in his steps, but given what Jack has told her moments prior, its a ruse.

“What do you think the truth is?” Angela asks, moving forward to stand nearer to him again.

“That you feel some kind of guilt for whatever happened to me. That you can't sleep soundly at night until you have proof that it isn't your fault.” His voice is light, but the words sting somehow all the same. Not because he's incorrect...

But because he's right.

Perhaps Angela didn't even know that until now. But Reaper continues, turning to face her, his elbow leaning on the top of a tall backed seat that sits pushed up to the table, unused and ignored.

“But what are you going to do if you do all your little... Tests... Say you do all your little experiments and find out that _all_ of this is your fault?” He pries the top of a beer off with nothing more than his hand, causing her mouth to sit slightly open. It's hard not to feel somewhat intimidated. _Super soldiers_. Lofting it to his lips, his eyes meet hers as he takes a few sips. Angela can almost see the cogs turning in his mind. “What are you going to do _then_ , Doctor?” He asks, putting her on the spot. As she stares at him, only one question comes to her mind.

“What will _you_ do, if that's the truth, Gabriel Reyes?” She asks, her voice nearly a whisper. For a moment the two are especially quiet, staring at each other. She knows beyond any doubt that she's standing in the room with a murderer, a man consumed by revenge, a bestial need for death. He could kill her any time he wanted. Reaper can almost taste her fear. There's something almost addictive about it, and though he craves more, he's smart, and knows better than to attack her here, now.

Eventually, he grunts, looking back down to his drink, somewhat disappointed with it. But then, it _is_ beer. Not nearly as strong as what he's used to, so it stands to reason that it wouldn't soothe him the same way, or immediately. “I don't know.” he confesses. “Jack seems pretty eager to kill me. I'd say it's fairly clear I have no friends here.”

“Jack says you seem pretty eager to die.” Angela says finally, once more, their eyes meet. Gabe tilts the drink back to his lips again and gulps down a good portion, looking away. He doesn't like that his mental turmoil has just been laid out, as it were.

“What of it?” He growls lowly, but the fact that he doesn't deny it almost makes Angela choke up. Had he already given up so easily? For a long moment, she's quiet and she looks away, unable to conjure up any words to properly explain how she feels in these moments. Here she is, trying to save him, trying to find a way to redeem him, and he's contemplating ending it all. Ultimately she moves to sit on the end of his bed, a sigh escaping out of her.

“I didn't bring you all this way for you to die, Gabriel. How can I trust to let you out of this room unattended if you immediately wander off to jump off the cliffs?”

“The fall wouldn't have killed me.” He remarks, as if it's some kind of consolation.

“ _It still would have hurt.”_ Angela murmurs at him, shaking her head. “Was Widow so important to you?” She asks, hesitant and still. Gabe turns away and finishes off his drink, setting the empty bottle aside. The way he sets it down is heavy, punctuating his abrupt discomfort with the topic, it feels like somehow the table's been turned on him. He's quiet for a long moment.

“Not like you think. Not like any of you think.”

“It's pretty obvious you had something romantic with her.” Angela presses.

“Only that time.”

“What do you mean?” But as she asks, she can tell Gabe is growing uncomfortable. He's pacing, keeping his eyes away. “... Was that the first time you were intimate with her?” She asks tentatively, finally. Gabe has seated himself on the opposite side of the bed, his back to her.

“...Yes.” he finally replies, but thinking of her pains him. Angela is quiet, waiting for an explanation, not knowing if it'll happen or not. Ultimately, it does. “You morons think that because I fucked her, that I must have been in some kind of romantic... relationship with her. Like she must have been the love of my life. People fuck. It's what they do... And maybe it was a mistake.” He remembers her speaking the words, and though they sting, he knows it's true. They were foolish that night. Sure, it was a good time, but it couldn't have lead to anything good, even if she was still alive to see that. “ She and I weren't like other people. We weren't like anyone else there. No emotion. No regrets. No secrets. At least... Not any that anyone knew.” He vaguely recalls what she tells him of Gerard... It's a secret he will keep, even now. “Relationships didn't and _don't_ exist for people like us. She was my only friend, Ziegler. She was the only one who did anything for me. The only one I knew since I woke up. The only person I trusted. She did things for me that Talon couldn't. And she was trapped there, just like me. One of Talon's _perfect little agents_.” he sighs, black miasma exhaling out of him in a small crown of darkness. As it drifts up over his features, his head bows. “She confided in me. Helped me. Trusted me...

 

… And I failed her.”

 

This makes Ziegler's breath still slightly in her throat. Mindless, emotionless monsters? Quiet drones of Talon's bidding? Hardly. They were people. Hurt, angry, broken people, but people all the same. Widow had been the only one there for Reyes when he felt betrayed by everyone he had once loved, even if he didn't know why he felt betrayed, or why he hated them. Now, his rage made more sense. How excruciating it must be for those memories that came back to him, she realized.

“I'm sorry, Gabriel.” Angela said, moving to stand, coming to his side, she reached out to try and rest her palm on his exposed shoulder. Before she could touch him, however, his hand reached up and stopped her, black claws latching around her wrist, but not tightly. His blackening eyes turned up to her.

“What do you need from me, Ziegler?” She can recognize in the change of his tone that Reaper's back in control, almost like they're separate people. Every time Gabriel feels too vulnerable, he lets the monster back in to shield him. She draws her hand back and lets it fall.

Her voice becomes almost sterile.

“I will need pictures of you in each stage of your starvation. I'll need to know the specifics of your... ah... Shadows.” She said, letting her eyes linger on a few of them as they drift up and off of him. “Perhaps a sample, if that's even possible. I'll be sending for you tomorrow so that I can take a photo of you as you are now. Perhaps then you can tell me the nature of these other arms of yours.”

Their eyes lock, seeming to understand the other. Though there were no words spoken between them, Gabriel understood the offer Angela was extending to him. She could help him, if he let her. How could she do that if he refused her aid, or went out of his way to deny her gifts? What could she do then, if he betrayed them? If he hurt any of them, wouldn't it simply prove that they were all right, and Ziegler was wrong? If he threw himself off the cliffs, he wouldn't die. If he made Jack shoot him, he might still survive, and undo everything they were trying to do here. Angela could only do so much, and if he didn't try for her, if he didn't trust her, this was all for naught.

“The ball is in your court, Reyes.” She said at long last, knowing that the old metaphor would speak volumes to him, since he had once been so engaged in sports himself. Ages ago, before any of this happened. Angela turned away, pacing to the door. “I leave you to decide what you're going to do with it.” She started to head out.

“And if I agree? If I play along? What do I get then, Ziegler?” Reaper was standing now, smoke wafting off of him. “Can you give me a promise that any of this will satisfy me? That I'll feel somehow _better_ after everything is done?” The timbre of his voice is edged with rage.

Ziegler pauses in the door, looking down.

“I can give you your memories, Gabriel. As many as I can reach. Can I promise you that you'll feel better after you have them? No. I can't. I guess it will depend on the quality of the memories, won't it? That's up to you... Only _you_ really know who you were before everything happened... Imagine how disappointed I'll be if this all turns out that you were actually the traitorous, vengeful wretch that they say you were. You want to give them the proof they need for that theory to be correct, Reyes? Go right ahead... But don't you stand there and accuse me of being the problem. The only one standing in your way right now is _you._ ” She stormed out then, upset with the uncooperative terrorist that he sometimes seemed to be. She could see and _feel_ that that wasn't the truth. It was obvious that Gabriel was in there, but what he struggled with was not something she could help if he didn't let her. He needed to let her in, and only then could they make any real progress.

Progress was going to be hard to get if he insisted on provoking their members or nearly getting himself killed.

 

Gabriel was left standing in his room, conflicted and angry. But for once, he realized the anger wasn't directed at her, but at himself. Indeed, what would happen if all his memories came back and he remembered why he betrayed them all in the first place? If that's even what happened. What would he do then? Leave? Abandon them?

...Abandon Jack?

_Why was that the thought that came to his mind just now?_

Moving away, Gabe shoved a hand back into the box she'd brought, drawing out something far stronger, whiskey. Surely, that would do the trick. Throwing himself onto his back on his bed, his hands fumbled with his holo-tele remote, scanning through what few programs he was allowed until he found something tolerable. It was hard to do with claws, he lamented. He pried open the whiskey bottle with a talon and set to work on it, dimming all the other lights in the room, content to choke himself out with the pungent odor of alcohol.

 

No relief came that night. Not like what he was seeking.

 

~

 

A drum beats furiously in his chest. Never has he felt nervous like this before. Command has never been set on his shoulders like it is now. Mock missions had always been easier when he was following orders, not making them up himself. Relying on himself was easy, because he knew full well what he was capable of. It's easier to trust the handsome blonde at his side, too, because Jack is able to compete almost just as fluidly as he is, though there are some areas that Jack excels. Now, as Gabe panted behind the man, he relented that Jack was the faster of the two.

“Christ! Slow down! We're going to get separated if you keep jumping ahead like that!” Gabe hisses towards the man. Their team has split up, just as he commanded them to. They're on the low ground again, but this time there's a double assignment. “Hostages” on one side, symbolized with a large blue flag, and hostiles on the other, pinning them down. Gabriel and Jack are crouched, faces clouded with dirt and debris. Jack smiles at him.

“What are you saying, Boss? That you can't keep up?” He teases relentlessly.

“ _Slow the fuck down,_ ” Gabe growls at him, but soon they're off again, scaling over obstacles through a storm of turret fire and ducking down behind cover.

“They should have reached the flag by now.” Gabe pants. “Why can't I hear them?” He chances a look over the top of their cover, nearly getting struck by sudden fire. “ _Goddamnit. I can't see anything.”_ He's sweating, nerves running through his body like a live wire, but Jack is looking right at him. Those blue eyes locked onto Gabe's rigid, taut frame, able to see the muscle beneath the fatigues if only barely. For the brief eyeful Jack had gotten before, he can almost picture Gabe naked. All at once, chestnut eyes are latched onto his, brows knitted, he's got that scowl again.

“The hell are you looking at, Morrison?!”

“Ah- N-nothing. Uh. Awaiting orders, Sir.” he flounders, but Gabe sees through it easily, snorting.

“Orders. My ass. You're so fuckin' fast. Why don't you see if you can get up ahead and down that left turret. I'm going to put a smoke grenade in front of the other one-”

But his words are cut off by a cry, followed by one more. Two of their members have just gone down. The rescue party.

“Fuck!” Gabe shouts, suddenly on the move. Jack rushes from his position, heading forward, but as he does, the turret clips his shoulder and he's put down. Grunting, he sees Gabe go down twenty feet away, skidding to a halt against an opposite wall, right in the line of sight of another turret across the hall.

Jack suddenly has to choose. The light bullet in his shoulder will put him out in now time at all- should he go for the turret and still fail the mission, or should he try to protect Gabe from further assault? Without a moment to lose, he pushes himself up and bolts back with what little strength he has left and launches himself towards Gabe's body, incidentally landing on him and rolling over him.

“F-fuck!” Gabe grunts with the impact, awake if only barely. “What the _fuck,_ Morrison?! The mission!-” Is over.

Another three shots, followed by grunts and yelps. _Damn. That was the rest of their team._ Jack is laying on his side just in front of Gabe's head, there's a stupid, goofy smile on his lips.

“ _The fuck is wrong with you?!”_ Gabe snaps, now unable to move his limbs thanks to the bullet, but soon he can see why Jack's smiling like such an idiot. The blond's arms are draped liberally around Gabe's head, fingers weakly latching onto his cheeks. _He smooshes them_ , making Gabe's lips purse. Something about this is unbelievably hilarious to the blonde, and he's laughing into the dust of the dirt mound they're stuck on. “ _Goddamnit Morrison. M- M-”_

 _“_ What was that? I couldn't quite under stand that-”

“Jack. _J-”_

 _“What?”_ Jack is relentlessly goofing with Reyes' dour glare. If those eyes could have killed him, they surely would have in those moments. Leave it to Jack to find some hilarity in their failure. While Gabe's mind is preoccupied with how bad this was going to look for him as the new Team Captain on his first mock mission, all Jack can do is obsess over the disappointed creases in Gabe's face. Ultimately, it's Jack's stupid smile that cracks Gabe's sour facade.

“ _You little shit.”_ Gabe muses with a grunted chuckle, trying and failing to tug his head away.

“There's three light bullets in my back because of you.” Jack snorts. “They'd have hit your head if I wasn't here. You can thank me later.”

Gabe groans with the information, eyes rolling. The horns have gone off, signaling their defeat. The fans have started up, and soon, attendants will be filing in to put them all on stretchers to get them to the medbay for official checkouts. Until they reach him, he can't do anything besides let Jack make fish faces with his lips. For the time being, the blonde has stopped.

“How about I just thank you now, and we forget this happened?” Gabe utters, eyes going somewhat bleary as the light bullets affect him.

“You think I'm gonna forget this happened.” Jack snorted. His eyes start to go distant too. “ _That's a laugh.”_

 

Minutes later, they've both passed out, and they're taken to the medbay as expected. Jack has moderately heavy bruising all over his back, and in his shoulder where he was hit originally. Gabe's got bruises peppering all over his chest, and a severely wounded pride. They're checked out all the same, with no serious injuries.

Gabriel is called into Walcott's office after the drugs have worn off.

 

“You have to command respect.” he's saying. “The reason your boys weren't in position is because they sat behind three seconds too late, bitching over who was going to do what! Take command, Reyes. Give them a reason to trust you. You're gonna have to do some real ball-busting to get this to work. They still want their pretty boy Fisher, but you had no trouble tellin' him what's what, did you? Eh? Command them, Reyes! I want to see _real_ improvement next time!” Gabe doesn't want to hear another lecture, so he nods formally and is released without question. Jack's in the mess hall, waiting for him.

“How'd it go?” he asks as he stuffs mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“'Bout as well as you'd expect.” Gabe groans, shoving in a bite of chicken. It's a little bit after hours, so the mess hall is emptying, but Jack stays with him despite that his plate is nearing empty. His body aches, but then, so does everyone's. They're on the fourth set of injections now, with another one slated for the next day. No one's ready for it, and Gabe feels like shit. “He thinks they don't respect me. That's why they didn't listen.” Gabe utters, glancing across the table at Jack.

Jack shrugs, wincing with the motion. “Or they were just morons. Hey... Do you wanna... I mean... Probably not. Nevermind.”

“...What?” Gabe asks, sighing.

“Well I just- you complain about Bennison a lot.”

“His fucking ancient hand-toy is loud as fuck.”

“Well I just figured you could chill with me tonight.” Jack sounds a little nervous, awkward, like he's asking for a date or something. Gabe rolls his eyes.

“What, like in our old room? With you?”

“Yeah. We can watch some shows.”

Gabe takes another bite, staring at his food. He knows he isn't going to get in trouble or anything. After all, Bennison hardly even notices if Gabe's there or not, and inwardly, he wonders why Team Captains are roomed together anyway. It isn't like they associate. Were they suppose to?

“Alright. Fine. I'm not even going to ask why.”

 

That's good, because Jack doesn't want to tell him why. Jack doesn't want to tell Gabe that sitting in a room alone makes him brood in the darkness and dwell on thinking of all the people who have died so far in this program. He doesn't want to tell Gabe that sleeping plastered against his side was some of the best sleep he's had in decades. In the comfort of their old room, Gabe immediately dominates his portion of the couch. There's comfort in the way it sags, and the way that someone actually sits next to him, talks to him as they watch recorded shows. The room is dark, lit up only by the holo-tele nearby. It's playing a recorded sitcom from three weeks ago. For some reason, everything they receive here is weeks old, and only the most recent news is delivered on a weekly basis. Reyes snorts something in Spanish now and then, then groans with pain. Jack looks at him and can see the concern in his eyes. The failure weighs heavily on him. He can tell by the way Gabe pushes his fingers up against his temples that he's struggling with it, the idea that his first mission as T.C. failed so massively. The blond sighs and shifts so that he's sitting closer, his hand reaching out and resting on the man's shoulder, giving him a slight shove.

“Lean forward.” he says.

Gabe's eyes open and he glances over at Jack, at the hand on his shoulder. “What-?”

“Just shut up, Reyes. It'll help.” In private company, Jack can't see Gabe as a superior. Gabe balks at him slightly, but obliges all the same. Jack begins to work his fingertips into the tense muscle of the other's neck and spine, finding knot after knot. After a mere moment or two, Gabe sags with an audible groan of relief.

“Jesus Christ. Where the hell did you learn that?” He sighs, eyes closing again, letting the blond go to work on him.

“Don't worry about it.” Jack says, continuing. He can see a small smirk tug at the corner of Gabe's mouth, and his eyes narrow slightly, pausing. “What now?” he asks.

“Hey- what? I didn't say _stop_.” Gabriel whines.

“You're smiling.”

“Is that illegal?”

“You never smile.” Jack protests.

This time, Gabriel chuckles, and for a moment Jack stops entirely, but the shoulders beneath his hands give a small wiggle.

“ _Come on._ ” the Mexican urges, and so Jack presses his palm more firmly into the muscle, forcing a small groan from Reyes lips. It's a sound that Jack likes, and he'd like to make happen more. “You know, I don't know why you're doing this. You know I can't promote you.”

“I don't want a promotion.” Jack rebuked quickly.

“Oh no. No.” Gabe laughs, but his brows are pinched upwards. “I know what you want.”

At this, Jack stops entirely, his brows lofted. There's an inflection in that tone that he's not sure he likes. It's provocative and luring. Suggestive. He says nothing, and slowly Gabe's eyes rouse and he glances over at Jack.

“What? Don't give me that look... I saw the way you _ogled_ me today.” Gabe calls him out.

Jack can't recall the last time his face felt this hot so quickly. He's blushing furiously, his hands dropping back to his own thighs and he looks away, doing anything to get away from the look Reyes is giving him. The show on the holo-tele is suddenly incredibly interesting to him. He snorts, defiantly uttering back at Gabriel.

“In your dreams, _sweetheart_.”

But it's too late. Gabe has already seen the flush, the look on his face... It's priceless. He grins widely, and he's leaning back in his seat, his pain forgotten, his laugh loud and almost obnoxious. Still, there's a charming quality to it that makes Jack flush all the more. _God damn. Why does he have to sound like that?_ Jack's whole chest felt hot, and feeling those chestnut eyes on him made him nervous.

“Oh, damn.” Gabe pants at last, his laughter dying off. “ _Damn._ I needed that. You're hilarious, Jack, but I think that's enough homosexuality for me tonight.” Gabe snorts, moving to stand. This causes Jack to look up, his brows lofting with the man's words.

“You're leaving?” Jack asks abruptly.

“Uh, well yeah... I've gotta sleep. So do you.” Despite his humored tone, there's reasoning in Gabriel's tone. Injections tomorrow, and then a massive food fight in the mess hall, as usual, probably.

“Right.” Jack says flatly, looking back to the screen.

“... What? ...Are you mad? Did you expect me to sit here and sleep on the couch with you, blondie?” Gabe asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his skull.

“I ain't mad. You're right. We've got a hell of a day tomorrow.” Jack was standing now, clicking off the holo-tele and moving off towards his own room. “Goodnight, Reyes.” He says, pulling away his shirt. For a moment, Gabe forgets to breathe, mouth sitting slightly agape. _Damn, the drugs have really done some incredible things for Jack's muscle tone... Or was he just that sculpted before?_

“Uh. Yeah. Night.” He stammers out of his daydream before heading abruptly out of the room as if he's fleeing the scene of a crime. In the safety of his own, he takes a cold shower and heads to bed, imagining the warmth of Jack's hands on his back again, mentally cursing himself.

 

_Damn it. I should have just stayed there._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! This gets a little bit heavy but I hope it wasn't TOO much angst for ya.


	13. Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm tired as hell and really wanna go to bed, so I'm gonna put this chapter out a couple hours early. Enjoy! This is NOT a recurring trend. Chapters will still come out Sundays as usual, with exception to this one.

Reaper allows his mind to drift back to that night in the rain, not recently where Jack had his gun pressed up to his chest, but prior by too many years, where they had gotten tangled up in each other's arms and kissed, and touched. It's easier to let his thoughts hover around these than the reality that is now. The reality that Jack not only refuses to believe that Gabriel still lives, but that he adamantly feels some kind of duty to put him in his 'much needed' grave. If only it were so easy, Reaper thinks, it would be so much better to avoid all of this. The more memories come back, the more sickened he feels about what's happened. Guilt surges back into his heart in small waves, along with an inconsolable pain. If Angela was the only one who still wanted him here, and even she doubted his integrity, then what was the point of being here anyway?

All the same, he sat on her doctor's table, idly admiring her organizational skills, the way her bottles were all arranged, the way her notes sat in alphabetical piles inside locked, glass cabinets. There was a tiny fragment of hope within him that by the time all of this was said and done, perhaps there would be something left to live for. Would he kid himself, and say that he was doing this for _the people?_ Did he _care_ about the lives of civilians, anymore? When had he stopped doing this for them, and started doing it for himself? He had to wonder.

_Were they even worth trying to do it again?_

His skin has grown colder, paler, his hunger stirring. He feels the air prickle his skin, drawing it up into goosebumps. It's still raining, and as nude as he _basically_ is in the doctor's lab, it's easy to feel the chill crowd up against him. He's wearing nothing but his pants at the moment, even his feet are left bare, the claws idly tapping at the side of the doctor's table he sits on, dangling, hating the way it feels.

Angela enters finally, her brows lofting a few degrees before an air of professionalism settles onto her features.

“Good morning, Gabriel. I'm glad to see you came.” She offers. But, the shade doesn't reply. It isn't as though he had anywhere else to go that morning, nor was he permitted to. Studying him, Angela comes around to his front, meeting his eyes. They're distant and listless for a moment before they level on her. “How do you feel?” She asks.

“Hungry. Weak. How much longer will this go on, Ziegler?”

“Just long enough. I need to see you in every stage, Reyes... You're still better now than when you and I... First encountered each other, all those months ago. Can you tell me how long you had been without food at that point?” There's a notebook in her hand, and Gabe can't ignore the small box she's set on the counter nearby.

His eyes drift away and he shrugs. “Not exactly... A month maybe.”

“And when you feed... how much would you say it regenerates you?”

“... Well that depends how far gone I am. From starving? It could take... six people? Maybe a couple more. Most of the time I don't wait longer than a week or two.”

“And You've been here... ah..” She glances towards the calendar on the wall. _It's a kitten calendar._ “Almost three weeks... hm. That might explain your lethargy, then.” She turns away and rifles into the box, suddenly holding something out to him. It's in a small wrapped _baggy_ with drawstrings. “There's a restroom just down the hall and to the left. Change into this, will you?”

Without a word, Gabe pries open the baggy with a claw, his eyes peering with in. All at once, his head snaps back to her.

“ _You can't be serious.”_ His voice is edged with a growl.

“Oh, we don't joke in here, Gabriel. Go on now, get changed.”

“I am _not_ wearing this.” He snarls.

“Oh?” She turns back to him, her smile is unnerving, “Then I shall amend your notes to dictate that you'll be taking the pictures _nude_ , shall I?”

“NO!” He barks suddenly, eyes widening, smoke dashing off of him in a thick cloud. Mercy make's a note of how his shadows seem to react to his emotional state and smiles at him.

“Alright. Go on then. Calm down, Reyes, I'm a doctor. It isn't like anyone else is going to see you.” She rebukes. Reluctantly, Reaper growls, crushing the small garment baggy in his hand, muscles all tensing. He ghosts away entirely, storming out through the door and down the hall, to the left, as she indicated. Once inside, he shuts and locks the door behind him and allows his stare to drop down to his palm.

He sighs and pries open the drawstring once more. Two claws pluck the item out of its holding cell and draw it up to eye level so that he can see it, outstretched at the whole length of his arm.

_It's a god damn speedo._

 

So this was how Angela chose to get even with him for his little... manipulative accusation. He supposed that she thought it very funny, a fitting retaliation for what he'd accused her of.

 _God fucking damn it,_ he curses to himself. Was he going to have to walk back down the hall in this? _Fuck._ He didn't like being exposed, especially not in public, but less so in front of people he barely knew. Something told him he'd have hated this even if he _wasn't_ a shadowy ghost monster. Anyone would have hated this.

 

Mentally, he has to psych himself up. _It's fine. It's just underwear. Not even- it's just swimwear. It's only for a couple minutes, and she's the only one who's going to see it. People fear you. You literally consume their souls, or something. Come on, Gabriel, this isn't fucking hard. Just pretend you're European._

 

With an outrageous growl that Angela can hear all the way down the hall, he shoves his pants off and forces himself into the almost too-small speedo that gets caught half way up his thighs. _Angela is crying with laughter, silently, in her office._

_So's Ana, who's standing just around the corner._

 

 _This is just so ridiculous. THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS. WHY DO I HAVE TO DO THIS?_ Reaper howls in his mind, his breaths just fume out of him in thick black clouds, until the black pollution starts seeping under the crack of the door. A string of curses fly out of him, mildly echoing down the hall. Mercy and Ana are in tears at this point.

Finally, he gets them up, and god are they tight. His cock feels like it's being strangled and his balls damn near fall out of the thing. There's a mirror in the bathroom with him, but Gabe can't, doesn't even dare to look at himself. The door slams open and he ghosts all the way back to Angela's office, actually phasing through the door as opposed to becoming solid and opening it manually. His pants are thrown onto the table.

“Is this some kind of joke?” He asks venomously, but Angela is practically a puddle of tears at this point. She's grinning, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Despite his own misery, seeing her smile makes him flush and he looks away, still a black mass.

“Oh come on, Gabriel.” She tries to coax, laughing gently. “If you can't learn to laugh, we're never going to get anywhere. Come on. You just have to be solid for a couple minutes so I can grab the picture, and then you can put your pants back on.” Angela insists, clearing her throat and placing her hands politely in her lap, atop the notebook, atop the camera.

With a hiss, he finally coalesces, sitting on her table, a hand draped over his crotch. He's staring at the far wall like it's murdered his whole family. Angela struggles with her giggles.

Then the door opens abruptly, “Ah! Angela! I was just- oh... Oh my.” Genji is standing in the doorway, and though he has no expression, his voice gives away everything. Gabriel can hear Ana's raucous laughter from just beyond. She is positively roaring with hilarity from the brief glimpse of him she'd gotten as the door had opened.

“GENJI!” Angela snaps.

“Reaper?” Ana gasps, tears like broken dams on either cheek.

“ANGELA!!” Gabriel howls in a rage.

 

All at once the door slams shut, and Gabe is already ghosting back out of physicality. “This is _not_ funny, Ziegler!” He yells, but Angela is crying again, her hand over her mouth, her eyes bleary, her breath coming out in uneven huffs.

“Gabriel!” She yelps as Gabe starts to go for the door, grabbing his pants. “No! Wait! I'm sorry, it was just a joke! Stop. Look!” She's moving suddenly, turning a large mirror away from the wall towards him, and for a moment he's caught himself in it. His eyes widen.

He's repulsed at first, but then, he blushes, _hard_ , and as much as he struggles against it, a smile finds itself onto his lips.

“ _This is not funny.”_ He insists, but already his anger breaks.

“Gabriel please.” Mercy sobs, smiling at him. “If you go out there now, Ana is just going to laugh more.” Genji's probably half a mile away already, god knew where the ninja went when things were awkward. “And I didn't know he was coming, anyway.”

“But you knew about Ana!?” Reaper gasps incredulously, his hand dropping away from the door as he faces her, lightly holding the pants in front of himself for cover.

“Well...”

“ANGELA!” Gabriel snapped, mouth slightly agape, but now he's laughing. The sound is wicked and hallow as usual, but... At the same time... It's familiar and warm. It's _him_. It's Gabriel. Angela's features soften and grow more genuine, for a moment, the tears in her eyes are not from humor, but joy. She can see him now, as broken as he is, but there's hope. There's a chance.

“Come on now and sit down. I promise I'm done with the... ah... Shenanigans. But Reyes?” she asks, and he glances back to her, listening. “Don't ever accuse me of being romantically interested in you ever again.” The advise is given strongly, and his head dips slowly.

“Understood, Doctor.” He says, slowly coming back to sit. The pants are finally set aside, and Angela takes the pictures she needs of his body, his face, eyes, teeth, and finally his back. Here, she can see the occasional outline of the arms that Genji and Ana missed in their flustered state.

“Tell me about these.” She says, able to ignore his nudity otherwise, her finger prods where one of the arms seems to attach, but she feels nothing, and the smoke scatters at her touch.

“It's just... Excess smoke.” He replies, sighing as he comes down from his amusement. “The more hungry I am, the more smoke there is. It's harder to keep myself together when it drifts off. The smoke... makes me. It's my whole body. When there's excess of it, it tries to reform itself, to make itself into something, unsuccessfully. Usually, it makes extra arms. I can... form them, if I need to, but not for very long amounts of time... And clothing doesn't fit them. The cloak I wear keeps my excess shadow as just... shadow. It prevents it from reforming the same way, so that the arms can't get in the way.”

“Have they ever reformed anything else? A leg? A head?”

“They formed wings once, years ago, but they haven't done so since. I'm not sure I want them to.”

“Oh? Wings. Fascinating. Why wouldn't you want that again?”

“Can you imagine trying to fly, only to have your wings evaporate a half mile off the ground? No thanks, doctor. I'll stick to planes.” He murmurs.

“Do they feel... Pain? Or anything?”

“Only when they're solid.”

“And you can make them solid any time you don't have the cloak on?” She asks for clarification. He nods. “Show me.” She says, and his brows loft.

“Here? Now?”

“I need a picture of them, no?” He reasoning is solid, so he doesn't argue, but he does reply.

“So you know... This is something of a private thing. It's not something I just show to anyone. No one knows that I have these.” No one besides Ziegler, now that Widow is dead.

“Ah so... It's... Sensitive.” Angela says as the arms take form. They're built much the same way his regular arms are, but where there should be pale white skin, there is only black flesh. The claws are the same length and shape as the others, and when they're finally as solid as they can be, she reaches out to touch them. Her fingertips press along the joint where they attach just under his shoulder blades, and then, about half way down the arm, they become mist again. It isn't until just past the elbow where she finds purchase again, all the way down to his claws. “Fascinating... I suppose if it means something to you, Gabriel, I do not need a picture of these. Thank you for showing me, anyway.”

“ _Now_ you don't want a picture?” He asks, letting them dissipate into clouds again.

“Perhaps later, when you're more comfortable with them, yes? If it is something private to you, it will remain so. You do not fight with them, anyway, so I don't see why it matters. Could you, if you wanted to?” She asks curiously, retaking her seat on the small, swiveling stool.

“I would have to be shirtless, and only intermittently. The more I starve, the harder it is to keep them solid, so I would have to be well fed. And I don't have _another two_ shotguns to fill them.”

“Oh, don't you?” Ziegler asks, chuckling, jotting down notes. His questioning look is enough to make her explain. “Everyone seems to think that you have just... an infinite number of guns, Reaper. No one ever sees you store extra ones, and no one ever sees you reload. _Ever._ Can you tell me the nature of those?”

“They're just _guns,_ Angela. There's nothing special about them other than they're instilled with the same ability my tactical gear has. Where I go, they go. It's easier to reform them with full ammo than it is to reload them. Haven't you ever wondered why no one's ever found pellets or shells or even _shrapnel_ of them? That's what I'm saying. You could never get a sample of them, or me, or my smoke, because when I ghost, they ghost with me. They're part of me. Basically attached. You could put them in a bottle for a while, but they would escape somehow.”

“Oh. I don't know about that. We had a little bit of handy tech that kept you from escaping on the drop ship, didn't we?” She seems to debate the issue in her mind, but Reaper fixes her an unimpressed glare.

“Yes... Yes but I won't _heal_ , Angela. You're just be keeping a part of me hostage, indefinitely. If you took... I don't know, a toe, or a finger... It would never regenerate until you had unlocked it. If you took my guns away and locked them up like that, I couldn't simply form new ones...”

“And does that bother you? Being without your precious shotguns, Reaper?” She asks, smirking. His brows knit.

“ _Of course it does. You wouldn't dare._ ”

“If you try to use them on anyone here, I might not have much choice, would I? Further incentive to keep them... mm, wherever you're hiding them, yes?”

Reaper doesn't tell her that they're drifting in the air around them right now, and that he refuses to be without them. In truth, he hasn't been without them for even a second of the entire almost-three-weeks that he's been here, though he could have them from anywhere, it'd take them longer to get to him if he kept them in his room.

“Angela?” he asks finally as she's finishing her analysis.

“Yes, Gabriel?”

“Why _did_ you come back?” he asks suddenly. “When the building was collapsing, and you knew you could die, and Widow went down. You came back for me... Why? After everything I'd... Done to you. To him...”

It's the first time she's heard any remorse in his voice since he arrived. For a moment she's quiet, looking down. When she looks back up, her eyes are serious.

“There's this belief that Talon agents are... ruthless, remorseless killers with no feeling. No emotion, no sense of moral code or attachment to anyone or any thing. It's a belief that makes it easier for the rest of the world to understand why they do what they do...” She pauses and looks down, fiddling with her fingers slightly as she struggles with her own emotions. “But as we were escaping, I saw you there out of the corner of my eye. I saw you throw yourself after her, and begin digging through the wreckage like you'd lost a part of yourself. Jack and I were completely forgotten in your mind, erased... I knew then as I looked at you, as I watched you struggle and strain, risking your own life, willing to accept your own death for her... I knew then that those rumors couldn't possibly be true. An emotionless, remorseless wretch with no ties, no care or affection for anyone would not have done what you did. I remembered the way you saved her in Madrid, and later, by the sounds of things, the way you saved her multiple times. I thought that if that was true, if it was possible, that you could be helped. That maybe you could be brought back to us and given a chance to repair what was broken inside of yourself. I thought that maybe you could be given a chance.” Her words trailed off slightly, and Gabriel looks down.

“Should I, Angela?” He asks solemnly, but his black and red eyes swivel back to her. “That's the question that everyone's asking except for you. I begin to understand it, slowly. It isn't whether or not I _can_ be given a chance... It's whether or not I _should_ be. Jack seems to know the answer. He's made his decision. Every memory I get back...”

“Gabriel... Surely, they can't all be bad.” She tries to comfort him, but his eyes latch onto hers suddenly.

“No- No, that's exactly it, Angela. That's the problem. The memories are not bad at all. They're good, in fact. Very good. They take me back to a time when I was young... Full of life and drive, where I had confidence and so much charm, so much charisma and something to fight for. They take me back to when I was someone that people wanted to know. Something that no one was afraid of. Someone that Jack loved... Someone who loved Jack. They take me back to a time where I made a difference in the world and felt _good_ doing it. But when I wake up, it all evaporates like so much hot air. A mirage of something I had once but that I can never have back again. Something that I ruined, that I gave up somehow, for something... Something that I sacrificed for a reasoning I can't yet remember... And part of me is afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Gabriel?” She asks, understanding the tenderness of his confession. Quietly, she drapes his pants back across his lap.

“Afraid that when this is all done, and I finally remember everything, that I'm going to remember something crucial that will break the perfection of all these memories that I have. I'm so terrified that this idyllic memory I seem to have is going to come crumbling down around me in pieces, and I'll end up just as I was when I woke up with Talon. Full of rage, full of hate. No hope, only confusion and a need to kill everything in the world, and everyone in it. To just... to just _let_ Reaper become me, because it's easier. Because it's simpler than trying to face the truth myself... And what will happen to everyone when that happens? What will happen to this place, to you, to Jack?”

This makes Angela still and quiet, her lips collide into a small frown. She struggles with her words. What can she possibly say to make this better? Everything he's said could very much be true. She reaches out and touches his arm, if barely, not put off by the coldness of him.

“Gabriel.” She tries to soothe quietly. “Everyone has doubts... Everyone has fear. I'm here to help you... Even if it seems like I'm the only one, you're not alone. Give Jack time. He may come around yet. He lost you too, you know? The things you worry about weigh on his mind too. But the bottom line is this... You're here now. You're home. You're with family. It may not feel like it yet, but you have to trust that something good will come of this. You have to believe that there's a reason you're still here... Gabriel... Make me a promise?” She asks, and she's standing now. His eyes trail up to her, silently questioning. “Promise me that you wont end it before it has a chance to work. Promise me you won't give up. Promise me you wont hurt yourself- or them. Promise to trust me, Gabriel.”

“I don't know if I can do that, Angela.” He replied, his voice guttural and deep, a reminder of how much damage he's been through.

She moves forward some, setting her notepad aside and without a second's more hesitation, she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a hug as he sits there. The warmth of her is comforting to him, and he lets his eyes close, for a moment remembering what it feels like just to be _held,_ and not in some kind of romantic way, but to feel the comfort of someone else there who genuinely cares.

“You have to believe, Gabriel.” She says gently, her hand idly combing at the back of his head. “You have to know that eventually, this will be better. All dark times are only in passing, Reaper.” It's interesting to him how she switches from using his true name to his moniker. It's like she's speaking to them both, as one in the same. “You have to know that you still have a purpose here, and one way or another, we're going to find out what it is. Promise me, Gabriel.”

His eyes are still closed, but his arms slowly come around her, ignoring the way her body for a moment tenses up in minute fear. It's an unavoidable consequence of his actions.

“I promise.” he rasps.

 

She releases him then and motions him to the door. “Go and change. Ana has some things to set you up with later today so that you don't feel such intense cabin fever.” He does so, easily wraithing from the door to the restroom, where he finally releases his genitals from their uncomfortable spandex prison. Once in pants, it's easy enough for him to collect his tank top and hoodie from her lab where he had stripped out of them in the first place.

 

~

 

Mock missions were never uneventful, but after a while, everyone began to wonder how many of them would be enough to prepare them for the real battles. The second wave of SEP soldiers had gone out now, and so far, no one had heard anything back from them. Gabriel had been here now for a little over two months. Their injections had been pushed up, and with it, a few more people had died. No one from his team, but Bennison's team had suffered a shuffle in their ranks. They'd all just been injected again, and Gabe sat on a hospital bed next to Jack. Blue eyes stared back at him.

“You'll tell me if my face starts fallin' off, right?” Jack asks, smirking. Gabe can already tell that there's stars in the man's eyes. He's got them too, floating around, particles of dust, everything in colors of red and blue, but when he focuses hard enough, he can remember the hue of Jack's eyes.

“Y-Yeah... I'll tell you. You'd tell me, right?” He stammers out with a slight smile. Jack chuckles back at him.

“Oh yeah, wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Gabriel snorts. “ _Says the posterchild of Indiana himself. Whitebread cornfed purebred boyscout.”_ Gabe teases, and both of them start laughing.

“I didn't know you were a poet, Gabe.” Jack slurs, starting to lose consciousness.

“Yeah well... We're all good at something, I guess...” Gabe trails off, eyes going distant on the ceiling. “You let me know when you figure out what you're good for, Jack.” Their teasing ceased then, as both passed out along with everyone else in the hall.

 

When he woke, hours later, it was hardly gentle.

“Gabe! GABE wake up!” The blond is standing at the side of Gabe's bed in his hospital gown, his eyes wide, a petrified look in his stare. He sounds frantic, and Gabe sits upright in a second, so sure that some terrible thing has happened, but he incidentally headbutts the blond hard enough to make them both groan with pain and recoil. As he reaches up to soothe his forehead, his chestnut stare levels on Jack, who was frantic seconds earlier. Now he's got that wide, idiot grin on his face again.

“What the hell, Morrison?” Gabe growls, but Jack laughs.

“You.. oh god. You should have seen the look on your face.”

“I'm going to kill you someday, Jack.”

“Might've waited if I'd known you were gonna try and do it right here and now. Come on. Lets go get food. I'm hungry.”

“...Jack, for fucks sake _I just woke up,_ why do you need me to go with you to get food?”

“ _Come on Gabe,_ You've seen the mess hall on these days. I don't want to get pulled into another fight... At least not against Bennison's team.” He groans.

Gabe smirks at him. “You'd rather fight ours?” He swings his legs off of the hospital bed, and Jack shuffles out of the way, trying to tie his gown more closed. Somehow it's come undone, a detail that Gabe catches onto immediately.

“Hell yeah I would. Our boys know how to fight, I mean... Bennison's guys are a little underhanded... Gabe w-what the hell are you doing?”

Gabe has incidentally latched onto the strings of the gown. “Turn around, or you're going to go walking down the hall blinding people with your flat white ass.”

“Why the hell'd you undo it for!?” Jack accuses, but Gabe shoots him a look. There's no way he didn't notice the drafty backside this long. Maybe it was intentional? All the same, Jack turns, and Gabe makes quick work to tie it closed... The last thing he needs is an unexpected _bone_ in a hospital gown.

The Team Captain stands and finally moves off, tugging the easily distracted blond along beside him. “Get back to your room and get dressed.” He instructs, but already, he's resisting to run back to his own. No, running in these outfits is bad. Real bad. He's seen it before. Not on himself, but if anyone was sensitive to nudity before the SEP, they sure as hell weren't anymore.

Jack and Gabe make it back to their rooms, and roughly a minute later, both emerge in black camo fatigue pants and tight fitting black T-shirts. For no reason at all, the start laughing, and Gabe gives Jack a small shove as they're heading to the mess hall. The sound of the hall ahead is loud, and nearly drowns out the sound of their combat boots on the linoleum flooring as Jack races after Gabe, who is now charging down the hall. Gabe is laughing, slurring a line of teases and curses back at the oblivious soldier, who almost crashes into a tiny lab assistant on his way. Three feet from the door, Jack proves that he's faster than Gabe, launching himself forward and catching him in the back. They both fly forward, sliding through the mess hall doors on the floor, laughing. “Christ, you sure do like _tackling_ , did you- OOF” Gabe grunts as Jack has abruptly sat down on his spine, planting his feet and his weight to keep him still. There's a roar of applause by the other SEP soldiers who have just seen the abrupt entry. Within a few moments, all of them have returned to their own shenanigans. Food is flying, people are yelling, assistants flee from flying silver platters and chunks of food. There's an upended table and people brawling in the center of the room.

“Did I _what_ , Gabe?” Jack asks, leaning forward on Gabe's back so that he can speak more easily over the raucous. But, from Gabe's hazy perspective, it seems and feels like Jack's whispering in his ear. His teeth set against each other. _Fuck. The unwanted bone, there it is._ His palms plant to the floor and with as much strength as he can manage, he shoves upwards, lifting not only himself, but the blond as well.

“ _Holy shit.”_ Jack murmurs, almost thrown off balance, but soon he's moving to stand, offers the man a hand up, which Gabe takes.

“I was _going_ to ask if you'd ever played football. Seems like something you'd be good at. Running and tackling.”

“And here you said I wasn't good at anything. What do you know about football anyway?” Jack says as they both pluck up trays and slide along the counter, picking up whatever they can without getting hit by flying debris to eat.

“Are you kidding? You don't know me at all. My whole family used to party up for all the big games... Basketball too. I guess we didn't have anything better to do.”

“You never played?” Jack presses.

Gabriel snorts, “Nothing special, not beyond... Uh, after school bullshit with friends. You did?”

“Highschool, all four years.”

“They _let_ a freshman in?”

“I was pretty fast, even before the drugs...” Jack says, his eyes now on the brawl in the center of the room as they skirt past it. Gabe's already stuffing a chicken leg into his mouth. It's not really an appealing look, but no one seems to notice, or care.

“Huh.” Gabe muffles, and then their attention is wholly consumed by the fight that's going on. Every time a harsh blow is landed, a loud cringe sees to radiate audibly off of the crowd. It's a welcome respite to Gabe, who's managed if barely to get his arousal under control. When someone's nose breaks, the two finish their meal and opt to retire back to Jack's room for relative safety. But, their high is almost as dangerous, and before they're back at the room, they're bantering and shoving at each other again.

“Oh god... Gross.” Jack says, flicking a chunk of what looks to be sweet potato off of his chest.

“You are. _Ugh. Filthy.”_ Gabe snorts back at him. The scathing glare Jack offers almost seems genuine, but the darker man can tell it's a ruse. Jack gets the door open and Gabe enters, keen on getting himself comfortable on the couch with some movies, the easiest way to ride out this high.

Before he even has a chance, however, Jack's shut the door and he's got a mischievous look in his eyes. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, Gabriel knows to be concerned. He barely sees it out of the corner of his eye before Jack's launching at him again. They collide and the remote goes flying out of his hand, he lands on his back on the couch, which crunches under their weight. Jack's on top of him, trying to pin him in any one of the many poses he could manage. This game is one that everyone in the facility plays, a constant tug of war to see who's better, stronger, faster, but to Gabriel, it feels like a struggle to see who's more dominant.

“Jack, Christ! You already downed me once, Jesus, I get it!” He yells, his arms up, trying to stop the blond, but Jack doesn't relent.

“Why should _you_ be Team Captain, eh? I did all your dirty work, didn't I?” here, he mocks Gabe, especially well, for that matter. His brows deadpan and his lips turn into a prototypical frown. “”Jack, run left. Run right. Kill that thing. Be a meat shield. Nya. Nya.””

“ _Is that what this is all about!?”_ Gabriel laughs out loud, taken aback by how well Jack seems to be at imitating him. Jack does something then that he doesn't expect, leaning forward so that they're eye to eye. Though it's a little muffled and Gabe's high as hell, there's no mistaking what Jack says.

 

“ _Maybe it's just another excuse to get my hands on you.”_

 

Gabe's heart skips a few beats. His eyes widen. Jack's hands are on his chest. Whoa.

_Whoa._

“You what-” he starts, but before he knows what's happening, he's rolled, his hands moving, wrestling with startling speed out from under Jack's grasp. All at once, an almost aggressive growl tears out of Reyes' chest, primal and fierce. His hands have latched onto Jack's wrists, and suddenly they've traded places. He presses Jack down against the couch, looming over him in a dominating pose.

“ _You want to run that by me again?”_ Gabe says, his voice has deepened and grown slightly more sultry somehow. Jack looks... horrified. Had he just _actually_ said that to his superior? Was Gabriel actually angry? It was so hard to tell... But one of Gabe's thighs is pressed between his legs, right up against his crotch. Chestnut eyes don't blink or look away, holding the soldier still. Jack stammers.

“I- I.. I'm sorry, Sir. I was just... It's a joke. I was only kidding. Won't happen again...”

Nerves fire in every direction for Gabe. _God, he wants this_ , but Jack is a partner. There were real strict rules against anything even remotely sexual like this happening... Not that they were always obeyed, after all, Soldiers had lots of energy and didn't exactly have a _lot_ to do but Gabe knew that walking down this path was a real dangerous way to go. Intimacies were a big distraction in their line of work, and he was sure that there was some kind of court-martial waiting for superiors who had relations with their subordinates.

All the same, Gabriel can feel his arms shake as he struggles to hold back what feels like a beast that wants nothing more than to ravage this silly, perfect Adonis white boy. _Goddamnit, Gabe, keep it together._ What could he even say? He wants this, badly, and his cock is telling him that he _needs_ it. How long has it been since he's had anyone? Goosebumps crawl up over his skin, and Morrison can see them from the angle that Gabe has him pinned. He doesn't try to move, but there's something about this that's driving him absolutely crazy. Being held down, even if it seems like he might die in the next couple minutes, that _stare_ in Gabriel's eyes is beastly, primal, dominant. Jack shudders involuntarily and looks away, “I uh... I”

“Shut up, Morrison.” Gabriel rumbles, slowly moving his leg. _Jack wants to cry with how much he wants it back._ “I'm going to... uh... Ride this one out alone, I think. The drugs are... real strong today.” Yeah. It's the drugs, Gabe. That's all it is.

_Yeah. He wants to believe that._

Meanwhile, Jack inwardly screams at the man's choice of words. Ride it out. _Fuck._

“Yeah.”

Gabe has moved to stand now, releasing Jack entirely. There's red hand prints on his wrist where the man had forced him down. Without another word, the man has moved off towards the door, and Jack shifts upright slightly.

“Gabe, I'm sorry.” He yelps out before the man can leave. Hand on the door, the man pauses, glancing over his shoulder.

 _“Let's just pretend this didn't happen.”_ His voice is still deep, still somewhere between angry and needy. Jack struggles not to notice the way his body fills out the shirt. They both do, but in those few moments, Gabe had seemed _so_ much bigger than him.

“Yeah. Okay.” He murmurs pathetically. As the Mexican leaves his room, he wants to throw something across it. He takes the coldest shower he's had in his entire time of being there.

It doesn't help.

 

In his room, Gabe shuts and locks the door, his back sliding into it, teeth still grated tightly together. The quarters are vacant for once, and thank god, because if Bennison had seen him this way, he couldn't begin to comprehend how he'd react or what he'd even say. His cock throbs so hard against his pants that it aches. That was close, too close, he decides. Jack was a gorgeous man, a real looker, a tempting little shit, but... He was off limits. A fantasy and nothing more. That was all it could be. Besides, Jack wouldn't even dare try something that ballsy when he's sober. A thought runs through Gabe's head that forces him off the door and to the seclusion of his own room, which is also shut and locked. _What if I hurt him?_ It would have been so easy to cave in and give in to what their bodies seemed to want. There was no denying now, no question that the feeling was mutual, but to act on such a thing could have had severe consequences. Yet it had been so instant, so quick to react the way that he had, knowing that it was what he'd gotten off to not long prior. _That exact thing. Having the blond trapped underneath him, at his mercy, in his grasp._ He could still feel Jack's hands on his chest and the taught muscle of Jack's wrists under his own palms.

 

...But what could it hurt to indulge the idea in the privacy of his own room? The encounter runs over and over in his mind on repeat as his hand soothes his aching shaft. The man's chest rises and falls quickly, lips trying to silence the moans that want to fall out of him as he nears his peak. As sweat dots onto his forehead, he realizes much to his disdain that one round simply isn't enough. He exhausts himself this way, drunk on his lust and the drugs in his system, finishing multiple times into as many tissues as he can get his hands on, until his mouth sits open and perspiration coats over his form. Sore and spent some time later, he rises off his bed and redresses loosely to clean himself off in the shower.

That night, his dreams were consumed by it, unending until the bell of five O'clock rolled around, leaving him utterly exhausted. As the drug's side effect start to kick in, his body whines with complaint and everything hurts. The nausea hits him, and for a while, he's able to forget how good Jack looked trapped beneath him.

 

~

 

Reaper isn't so lucky. Another waking memory, his body hurts like he was there, stiff from whatever had been running through his mind. Staring at his ceiling, he reminds himself that the memory is decades old. Jack's not that young, blond playful soldier anymore, but a battle-worn veteran with scars, half of which was was sure he'd given Jack himself. He wasn't the same man any more than Gabriel was. Those days were over.

He gets up and dresses himself, and per Ana's request, he leaves the mask behind. It scares people, she says, and since he's starting a new shift today, it would be better if he didn't have it on. _Work,_ he thought. Something to actually do. It was better than being a prisoner in his room, at any rate. Gardening wasn't exactly fun, but it was something that needed done.

The envirodomes are a comfortable place at any rate, and finally, the sun is out, everything seems to be drying off at long last.

Including Jack, who once again reclines on the grass near a patch of growing corn. He has a book today and seems not to notice Ana and Gabriel as they pass distantly. “It's not hard work.” She's saying to him. “Well... For you it might be. You're wearing that... ah..”

“I'm not taking it off.” Growls the moody shade as he looks towards her, his hood up, shadowing most of his face, but in this bright light, she can see the details in his shadows with ease.

“Fine. Suit yourself I suppose. Your tasks will vary, but every day you'll be out here. There's a tool shed just there,” She motions to a small grey building barely more than an outhouse to the left of the entryway into the dome, tucked between a tall set of palms. “You can start here. No one's going to tell you what specifically to do. You can watch the others, do what they do, or ask someone where you can help.”

“You're going to make me speak to them?” he growls uneasily.

Ana sighs, exhausted as she turns to face him. “You have to start somewhere, Gabriel.” She insists. His eyes roll, red gleaming beneath his mask, he moves off towards the shed. Perhaps wisely for the moment, he decides against asking anyone anything, since no one seems eager to talk to him. There's other workers there, a few in every patch of crops. Some are weeding, watering, preening, harvesting; there seems to be an endless fount of work to do here. Some seem happy, like this is some kind of stress relief to them. Perhaps he could follow their lead, he thought, setting to weeding a crop of cabbages not far from where he originally stood. He slides gloves on his hands and kneels down to get started. The other workers move away slowly, but surely, leaving him moderately alone, in quiet.

Quiet enough that he can hear a faint conversation between Ana, who has moved away, and Jack, who's standing now. He can tell by the timbre of the Soldier's voice that he's not happy.

“ _It isn't safe, Ana... To trust him with these workers.”_

_“Give him a chance, Jack.”_

_“A chance? A chance to do what, Ana? Kill someone? Eat them, or whatever it is he does? You've seen the news the same as I have.”_

_“Yes, I have, and yet here he is.”_

_“Goddamnit, Ana. This isn't safe. He almost killed Ziegler, could have killed me. What if he had done something to Fareeha?”_

_“Careful, Jack.”_ Ana's tone is venomous and sharp, there's no doubt that Jack's treading on thin ice. They two stare at each other levelly.

“If it was up to me-” Jack starts again, but Ana interrupts him.

“It _isn't_ up to you, anymore, is it, Jack? Strike commander, formerly. You abandoned this company with the explosion no differently- are you saying we should trust you more?”

“ _I haven't killed hundreds with my bare hands and thousands of others by my actions.”_

 _“Haven't you, Jack?”_ Ana quips sharply. She seems to remind him that the people they killed in their endeavor to help the world were, in fact, still people. _“He was your friend, once.”_ She adds. The soldier practically fumes, and suddenly he's yelling. Everyone can hear it, and turns to look.

“THAT MAN IS LONG DEAD, ANA. WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?!” he looks up only to notice that everyone's staring, including Gabe, who's standing now, listening in on every word. He feels pain and guilt swell within him with each word that Jack speaks, and a familiar rage stir in his mind. “Why can't _any_ of you see that.” Jack says like he's defeated. He's looking directly at Reaper. “You're all miserable fools.” Jack utters at long last, turning away, book in hand, he storms off. Gabriel watches him go, and Ana turns as if to face him, but he looks away at last, waving his hand dismissively, a gesture he's picked up from her. He leans back into the dirt, his eyes closing.

 

He lets anger consume him slowly.

He doesn't need to be here, and Overwatch doesn't need him. His memories seem to be coming back on their own more regularly, and he begins to wonder if he needs any help with them at all. The better the memories get, the worse he feels. Does he even want to be here anymore?

Angela's made him promise not to ruin this, and though he shouldn't care about his promises, for some reason the idea of going back on that after the aid she's given him doesn't sit well with him. The fall from the cliffs wouldn't kill him. He could survive them and get away, if starving. Or he could smuggle aboard one of the small carrier ships that go to and from the mainland...

 

And from there?

 

Once he was on the mainland he could disappear altogether.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thank you so much for reading! I wanted this chapter to be a little bit lighter. Hope it made you laugh a couple times!


	14. Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Suicide themes.  
> Mild Gore/Gross

If he jumped now, he'd be unconscious before the pain really struck him. He'd become a vapor, a thick cloud of black hatred. He could Make his way to the mainland, one wraith form at a time. It would be difficult, and it would take a while, but he could. The fog stirred around his ankles, swirling as if it was part of him, tangling with his coat and the streamers of black that wafted off of him. Shuttles came and went every hour or so, and he'd missed the last one. Was that why he was waiting here? Did he really expect to just hop aboard and make his way casually back to civilization? Could he really disappear the way he wanted to? Angela had said she would let him do it, but not this soon.

Ever since Jack had lost his temper in the garden, people had been tense. Some of the workers had taken his words to heart, and if they hadn't spoken to Gabriel before, they sure as hell weren't now. Even his encounters with the others had been muted towards him. Genji hadn't spoken to him at all, and Angela seemed sad and sympathetic, though she hadn't had much reason to speak to him since there wasn't a whole lot she could do, quietly waiting for him to almost starve to death and analyze what blood she'd taken from him. Reaper still didn't feel entirely whole without it, however little it was. His body didn't regenerate blood the same way others bodies did, or if it did, it still seemed to be missing _something_ from what she'd taken. So far, she'd only said that nothing in the blood she'd found had been conclusive. Whatever did that mean? It wasn't a big handicap, but still something he felt. Whatever she'd kept of him was probably still trapped in those tubes, he imagined. Not enough to show on his person, but enough that he knew it was there, like an invisible ache.

He'd been here now a little over a month. When he worked in the gardens, he was alone. Ana came to speak to him occasionally, as if just to see how he was getting along, and though he had been behaved, he still wasn't... _Technically_ permitted out of his room without an escort. That didn't stop him from getting away now and again. Ana had left him that evening, oblivious that as she had walked back down the hall, he had put his foot in the door, stopping it from closing entirely. Now, dressed in his full tactical gear, he crouched into the fog. It would be a while before the next shuttle, and he had to decide what he was going to do when he was gone. The memories had slowed after the last few days, and he began to wonder if suddenly they were just... done. Or, maybe because his mind was so focused on the harsh words Jack had said, he simply hadn't dreamed at all.

In the quiet hours, he would sit and let the holo-screen tell him what the world looked like that day, or that night. He'd turn it so that he could see the stars, and vaguely recall what they looked like from Los Angeles. That was, barely visible at all, broken up by orange street light pollution and the cyan gleam of the occasional stadium, the obnoxious neon and florescent colors that the city offered at night. He could remember the way the sunset reflected off of the ocean, right into their eyes as children, making them wince and chase each other the other way. Everything had been so quiet then... So peaceful and innocent. He could vaguely remember standing in the rain, with Jack, seeing the brilliant flashes of lightning reflect in the blond's gorgeous blue eyes. He could remember thinking that no one else had more perfect eyes than the man in front of him.

Yet... Here he was, standing on a cliff face in Fiji with nothing but the sound of crashing waves to accompany him. The fog clung around him like an old friend, and overhead, a trillion stars danced their flickering lights down at him. Through his mask, Gabriel looked up at them. Still as beautiful tonight as they'd probably looked in Bloomington, Indiana. Jack would know. Somehow, Gabe knew that he'd mentioned them. Did they remind Jack of Gabriel, too, he wondered?

Somehow, he doubted it.

The memories hurt, and despite how sweet some of them were, they only served to pain him further, twisting his emotions and leaving him feeling bereft and raw in the wake of them. His talons clicked together as they formed loose fists at his sides.

Gabriel came to his knees, letting himself sink into the plush green grass like it was a carpet, the fog scattering around him, and lightly reflecting the red lights on his tactical gear. Memories, he realized, were his weakness. The one thing that he'd been trying to recover was killing him, piece by piece. The latest of them, from almost a week ago, filtered back into his mind.

 

~

 

It was a training day. Though he can't be positive how far in it is, he knows that there had been at least a few between the last memory and now. Gabriel is confident, and when he gives orders, his team responds to him. He can see it clearly now, knocking over turrets and overhead gas chuggers like they were a joke. Their attire decorated in dirt, their skin worn with scratches and bruises. Hard expressions began to settle on all their faces, and aggression seemed to spike. One by one, each of them was being honed into a finely calibrated weapon. They worked together like a well oiled machine. Their guns became extensions of their hands, a part of their body, more or less, and when they were training, almost no one walked around without one.

“FASTER.” Gabriel yelled as he had his team in one of the training facilities within the SEP base. There were multiple, so that multiple teams could train, and at this time of day, everyone was busy doing exactly that. These rooms were nothing like the mock mission rooms. Where those were covered in dirt and realistic obstacles, these were all down to perfecting the function of one's body. The obstacles here were almost... Irrationally designed. There were high walls made of iron bars, but so far apart that one had to leap from one to the next. There were mud pits, loose sand hills, even heated grates along some to teach them how to move in and around fire. How to avoid it, probably. There was also a collection of workout equipment, a sparring area, and all the typical athletic methods of getting someone into shape, but those were being neglected at the moment. “God damnit, Ryan! If you can't make it up that pillar without wrapping your arms around it like it's a giant bear, you're going to get wrecked the next time I put you against a timer!” Most of the others had already scaled this obstacle and moved on. Only when the last of them came jogging through and passed him did he join them. He'd done all the same exercises this morning, an hour before breakfast. Something he'd learned that most of the other Team Captains did as well. It was a trick he'd picked up from Bennison.

He jogged to catch up with the lot, who all panted around a dueling mat. While some sipped at water, others wiped sweat from their brow. Everyone was hot and sticky and uncomfortable, including Gabe, who was trapped in here with them. “Alright. I want to see two people in the middle, now.” He motioned the center of the pit, and everyone looked among themselves. No one was volunteering. Sighing, Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Alright. Fine. Val, you and Eddie. Now.”

“Sir if I move another step-” But Eddie stopped, abruptly covering his mouth and rushing towards the nearest trash bin, where he deposited breakfast.

“Alright...” His eyes primed for a new target. Within seconds, they landed on the panting, sipping blond. They hadn't talked a whole lot since their last encounter. Gabriel had gone out of his way to eat elsewhere. They were still partners, but despite that it hadn't been spoken, some space was definitely needed between them. He couldn't allow the distraction to get in the way of his goal here, after all... And he sure as hell wasn't here to _flirt_. Jack seemed to have gotten the hint without any trouble, and hadn't made any attempts to seek out the Team Captain, or invite him back to the room, for that matter.

Now, Jack was in his sights, blue eyes met chestnut browns and knew before Gabe even spoke what the verdict was. That didn't stop Gabriel from speaking anyway. “Morrison. You're up.” He hadn't even used the man's first name since that night, further cementing their distanced status... Some of the other Team members had noticed, too, but thus far, no one had dared to say anything. Val Kousen stepped into the center as Gabe had said, and soon, Jack set his water aside and moved in as well. Val was easily one of the most agile people on their team, but everyone knew that she had wicked right hooks, and she could get almost anyone in a leg-lock if she wasn't watched carefully. Bigger men with muscles to weigh them down were a prime target for her, so Gabriel knew that this was going to be difficult for Jack. Val was a small girl, probably of Greek or European descent, though he'd never asked outright. She had fierce hazel eyes and a 'fuck-you' attitude. Everyone came to slowly sit in an off-shape circle around them on the red mat that made up the area. Gabriel reached up, rubbing the stubble of his jawline as he watched the two begin to circle each other. For a moment, it seemed like no one was going to make the first move, until Ryan Larson suddenly barked at them. “Get on with it!” In an almost joking manner, mocking some ancient film that had once been a favorite of nerds everywhere. Even still, a few of them laughed. Gabriel looked at his team. Himself, Jack, Val, Ryan, Eddie, and a new transfer from another team, Merrick. That was how SEP went about evening things out, they'd all learned. Once Soldiers were past a certain point in their injections, it didn't matter what team they were on, and if people died or god knew what in the process, they were juggled around like loose coin until everyone was evened out with a partner again, and it was how they'd lost O'Connel, he lamented, rather fond of the redhead before she'd been traded off. That was how they preferred it, it seemed.

When the fight finally got underway, it seemed for a moment like Jack might have the upper hand. He was stronger than her, and landed a few solid blows before she suddenly swept his foot out from under him, staggering him. He came down to one knee, right before one of her palms landed squarely on his Adam's apple. He gasped out a small choke, but suddenly rolled backwards, putting much needed space between them. He goaded her into her traditional move, which was to throw herself onto her opponent's front so that she could lock them down. That seemed to work like a charm, but what she wasn't counting on was that he would roll, and use the sheer weight of his body to pin her. But, Jack wasn't nearly as agile as she was, and she twisted out of his grasp just enough to swing her legs up over his back and lock her ankles across his throat. Then, her thighs gave a sudden, powerful jerk, throwing him off of her and onto his back again. At once, she wheeled and placed her knees on either of his arms, with one of her forearms holding him down by the neck. Her body leaned forward, not only placing extra weight on her limbs, but evading his own legs as he kicked up, trying to return the attack. She was too small for him to even reach her. It was then that she went to town, as they were instructed until someone yielded. The first strike was a jab that caused his lip to split, almost like a punishment for him trying to turn her attack on her. Her body twisted then, and brought the sharp, bony angle of her elbow up against his temple. He grunted, but did not pass out. Taken aback by this, she repeated the attack twice over, each one failing. By now, the spot was bruising and the skin was raw, and everyone knew it would swell. Most other's would have yielded by now, because there was surely no way he could have gotten out of this hold. Yet, his arms surged, tensing and tightening as he growled, blood seeping from his lips into his mouth, staining perfect, pearly white teeth. Gabe felt his stomach knot uncertainly. Jack's growl seemed to redouble his efforts, and for a second, he was able to throw her legs off of him. But, then came one of her right hooks to the opposite temple, and he was left dazed.

“Yield, Morrison!” She barked at him, clearly she didn't enjoy being brutal like this.

“No.” he hissed out.

“Yield!” She repeated more loudly, again striking him with her elbow. Jack began to see stars, but even still, he didn't give in.

“NO!” Jack roared.

 _Jack, you prideful moron._ Gabriel lifted his hand. “Enough!” Gabriel hissed, coming to his feet and striding into the pit, motioning Val off of the man. Still, he offered her a nod of a job well done.

“That's all for now, go and get some lunch before we continue.” He instructed to the others. Fluorescent lights overhead silhouetted Gabe in Jack's eyes as he squinted up at him, finally noticing the hand that was down stretched to him. “ _Get up, pendejo._ ” Gabriel hissed, and Jack finally took the hand. Pulling the blonde to his feet, he remained there as a standing pillar as the soldier swayed. “What the hell are you doing, Morrison?” He asked.

“My job, Sir.”

“Like hell you are. You'd have laid there and let her crack your skull open if I didn't step in.”

“I don't tolerate defeat.”

“Oh? Really?” Gabe's eyes widened, he was mocking the man as he walked him over to a bench, then pushed a bottle of water into his hands. They were alone now, and Gabriel reached for a roll of paper towels to start cleaning up Jack's bleeding mess. “That's all well and good in theory, but sometimes you're just going to have to fucking _deal_ with it. Or get better.”

“Get better. Yeah.” Jack winced. Gabriel came to sit beside him, towels in hand. He plucked one from the roll and doused it in ice water from his own container. Without warning, he pushed it up to the swelling, bleeding purple egg that Val had put on his temple. Jack recoiled, “Jesus,Gabe. Christ.” he cursed, and Gabe abruptly pushed the item into Jack's hand instead.

“ _Sir._ ” Gabriel corrected, getting up off the bench. If Jack didn't want his medical help, fine. Let medbay doctors do it. “You'll do well to remember that tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“At 0700, when you're done eating. I'll be in my quarters. You'll show up and I'll show you how the hell you counter someone like Val.” he commanded. “Be late, and next time, I'll let her black you out.”

“...Yes Sir.” Jack replied, holding the cold, wet towel to his temple. Gabriel was moving now, away towards the door. “Thank you, Sir.” Jack added after a hesitant moment. The fact that Gabe had stopped the fight at all meant something to him. Surely he wouldn't have made that exception for their other members... It meant that maybe Gabe didn't hate him after all.

 

At both lunch and dinner, he didn't even see Gabe in the mess hall. In truth, he hadn't seen much of him at all since their last little... altercation. What the hell had he been thinking? Even high, it was never acceptable to come on to a superior like that. Sure, Reyes was a good looking man. In all honesty, almost everyone in SEP was good looking nowadays, with only the rare unfortunate soul with an unappealing bone structure.

...But. None of them appealed to Jack the way that Reyes did. There was something about him, his attitude, the way he looked when he was deep in thought, his sheer strength of willpower, how he carried himself.

Jack had never met anyone with as much raw drive as Gabriel seemed to have, even if it was derived by his need to avenge his brother and mother. Gabriel _commanded_ him, commanded _them._ Whether he'd noticed it or not, even some of the other Team Captains, from more veteran ranks no less, had begun to be wary of him and his team. The memory of him, twisting on Jack and pinning him to the couch made the blond shudder. He could have done anything... Anything he wanted in those moments. But, at least one of the two of them had remembered their place.

Thank god, too. Jack needed the reminder sorely.

 

Of course, Gabriel remembered none of that. He remembered going straight to his quarters and having lunch there, listening to Bennison bitch about how they didn't do his laundry correctly, then heading back to the training room for round two. Dinner was a lot similar, except this time Gabriel was given a bit of quiet as Bennison took his meal out in the hall with the rest of his team. Gabriel ate quickly and stretched his fingers, setting his tray aside and moving into his room. The guitar he'd been given was sitting in the corner in a case. He played it now and then, and now, he could think of nothing he wanted more than a few notes before Jack showed up in half an hour.

His callused hands rested on the back of the case and then brought it over to the bed and unzipped it, recalling a few songs that his grandfather used to play.

Before long, he was sitting, and strumming the tunes along, half-murmuring the lyrics along in Spanish. He let his mind wander back to old times. He could still remember playing in the park, throwing a football around, or doctoring up his sister after she tripped playing basketball. Rosa, with her dark eyes and tanned skin, her smile that seemed to always have Gabriel and Henrique chasing creeps away from her. She was so innocent in all of this, he thought, his mind drawing his thoughts like tentative footsteps towards the precipice that had brought him here. His playing grew more aggressive, his voice grew harder and a little louder. His brother's casket being lowered into the ground, the flag fluttering across its surface. His grandfather's death, the sound of his mother's sobbing tears. The sight of his father in the back of the church, head bowed, tears on either cheek, trying to hide them from the world. The feel of Gabriel's mother's dress that they'd put her in when they dressed her up. The look they had on her features, so peaceful and quiet... The strap of skin around her neck, slightly abnormal from everything around it. A vicious sort of growl tore out of Gabriel's throat and his fingers twitched on the strings, stilling. When he looked up and regained his vision again, his eyes were blurred, and he realized he could hear a knocking on the door.

“...Sir?”

Morrison.

Was he early or-

No, he realized, looking at the clock. Jack was right on time, which he'd lost track of. Hastily, he reached up, wiping his eyes and setting his guitar on the bed and moving towards the door. He unlocked and jerked it open abruptly, turning away before Jack could even say anything. The blond stood there with his wide blue eyes, staring in as Gabe planted his feet and pressed his palms against the sofa, shoving it out of the way and towards the far wall. Hopefully no one needed to use to toilet any time soon, as the door to it was now blocked. Jack seemed to sense something was off.

“Sir..?” He repeated, still standing in the door.

“For fucks sake, Morrison. Get in here and shut the door. Did you see Bennison in the mess hall?”

“Uh, yes, sir. He was about to take his team out on a night run around the perimeter.”

“That's convenient.” Gabe murmured, finally looking at Jack, who was just staring. “What?”

“Are you alright? You look... Upset... I thought I heard music; I could come back later if-”

“Shut up Morrison. I'm fine. Nothing more than the usual.” Jack stepped in further, barely glimpsing the guitar on the bed through the crack in Gabriel's door. In their brief time when they had been roomed together, Jack had learned enough about Gabriel to know that he was a troubled sort of man. Troubled, but not bad.

Before long, Gabriel motioned at him with a hand. “Come on then. I trust you've had enough stretching today not to need another warm up.” He said, standing in the middle of the room. He'd moved all the furniture so that it was out of the way, knowing this might get difficult.

“You were going to show me how to counter Val.” Jack reminded, kicking off his shoes and moving them aside. Gabriel was wearing only his black fatigues and the fitted black T-shirt, so Jack removed the top of his fatigues so that they were dressed more or less the same.

“I am. I'll get you there before you know it.” Gabe said, and before Jack could even respond, he grunted and found himself grappled into. The Team Captain moved like a train, tackling him down to the floor like a training dummy. It took Gabriel a hell of a lot less effort to get him on the ground than Val had needed, a detail that didn't go over his head, and within minutes, he was proven right. He found himself pinned, glaring upwards at Gabriel who loomed over him. There would be a bruise where a shoulder had caught him, but that hardly mattered now. There were knees pinning him, backed by thick, powerful thighs that the blond couldn't hope to overthrow... Not that he wanted to.

“Come on, Morrison. Don't make it so easy. You leave yourself open every time. Once she's got you here, good luck getting out.”

“I got out once before-” Jack reminded, only to be cut off.

“Yeah. You got out. That's well and good, but she damn near cracked your skull. You can't _let_ her get you to this point. Again.” He said, sliding off of Jack and extending a hand to help him up.

They started again, and it happened at least three more times before Gabriel sighed and stopped him. He roughly grabbed Jack's wrist and moved it, angling it down, into a position that didn't seem like it could be remotely useful. In his bewilderment, this time, when Gabriel moved into position and came at him, his hand was right there to catch the ankle to throw him off. They spun, and suddenly Jack found himself in control, in the lead, his hands on Gabe's shoulders, pinned to the carpet, crushed with their weight.

“'Bout goddamn time.” Gabe grumbled, “Too bad I had to hold your hand through it.”

Jack smirked at him, “Thank you, Sir.” But Gabe motioned him off.

“Again.” And the exercise repeated, but both were sweaty now, and Jack missed the hold twice more before landing it again. This time, when Gabriel landed on his back, he suddenly rolled upwards, something Jack hadn't even considered doing, and butted his head roughly against Jack's forehead. The pain caused him to reel back, but all at once, they were grappling.

Gabe wore a smile, and within seconds, so did Jack. The game intensified.

Jack ended up propped up on Gabe's back, his seat planted against his spine, trying to keep him on the floor, wanting to see more of that strength he'd seen back in the mess hall the night he'd fucked up. Gabe struggled at first, but Jack smirked and leaned forward.

“Come on, Reyes. I've seen you get out of this before.” He taunted. Gabriel's following laugh was a telling one, as was that knee-weakening smile of his.

He didn't disappoint, then, shoving himself up, and Jack as well, and rolling out from under Jack's hold, suddenly latching onto the back of his head with a hand and pushing the side of his face against the carpet. His forearm pressed along the back of Jack's shoulders, one leg moving between his two thighs, immobilizing him.

Jack uttered a small, involuntary sound, a faint quiver like a moan, that caused both of their eyebrows to loft. Gabe brought the knee upwards, intentionally grinding it against the blond's crotch, making Jack growl in pain.

“Don't get so excited, _Jackie_.” Gabe wasn't whispering, but his voice was a lot lower. Almost...

 _...Sultry._ “I can still fuck you up if I want to.”

Jack's teeth grated together and his eyes pinched shut. _Fuck, this was not what he needed right now._ “ _Like hell_ you can.” He growls out between clenched teeth.

“Oh?” Gabe's brows bounced again and he smirked. “Don't tempt me, Morrison. I might...”

 _Slip. Gabriel was slipping right now, as he spoke._ All he could think about was putting Jack in his place and having the spoils that followed. The fantasy filtered back into his mind and made his throat utter out a small, crooning rumble. Jack's head twitched, eyes straining against the corners as he tried to get a glimpse at the man who pinned him. What he saw didn't last long, but it was there all the same: a small smile, a needy sound, that far away look in his chestnut eyes. God, what Jack wouldn't give for a little more of that. His tongue wet his lips. He struggled so much with his words. He wanted to say something, to give away that he'd seen that look in Gabe's eyes.

Gabe was looking right at him now, as if trying to gauge whether or not Jack had seen it too, seconds before he'd recomposed himself.

“ _What if I want you to fuck me up, Reyes?”_ Jack whispered, and the two were left staring at each other for all of a half second.

 

Right after that, the door clicked, and in barged Bennison.

 

All three seemed to deadpan at themselves for the longest moment before Bennison took on the most disgusted look he could have possibly managed at that moment.

“What the fucking hell is goin' on in here?!” He barked, and suddenly, Gabriel was off of Jack, gripping him literally by the back of his shirt and jerking him to his feet.

“A training lesson. Nothing else.” Gabriel uttered, but... He was blushing. Jack was _furiously red._

“Like hell!” Bennison barked. “Christ, Reyes, what-..” His left arm motioned at the bathroom, blocked off with the couch, then to the right, where the holo-tele had been shoved in front of his bedroom door. “Fuckin'! God.. Damnit. Reyes. Get your shit together.” He barked, then turned and stormed out of the room, leaving the two standing there.

For a long moment, neither of the two said anything, too mortified to look at one another.

That was how their little reputation as boyfriends had gotten started.

“Is.. uh.. Is he going to be okay?” Jack asked awkwardly, suddenly helping Gabriel who had begun putting the room back together.

“I thought you said he was running the perimeter with his team...?” Gabe asked abruptly.

“I mean- he was! I heard him say it...” He paused, Grabbing one end of the couch and moving it back into place. Both of them met their gazes from across the couch.

“He'll be fine. He bitches a lot anyway.” Gabe uttered, looking away and moving suddenly into his room, away from Jack. He needed to get away from everything that had just happened. He'd almost let himself go with Jack again. That could have been such a _horrid_ mistake. What if Bennison had caught them... Doing something?

A thought filtered into his head, then.

What would he have done?

It was almost enough to bring back the bone that was starting to form in his trousers. Jack seemed to have caught on to a small detail as well, even if not that one in particular.

“Reyes?” he asked, standing just outside of the man's bedroom, glancing in as Gabe had picked up his guitar and was sliding it back into its case. When Gabe grunted his acknowledgment, Jack continued. “... Would it have mattered if he was out all night? You didn't know he was going to be gone earlier when you called to have me here... You... did want me here just to train... right?”

“Don't be stupid.” Gabe snapped defensively. “Of course I had you here for training. Him being gone is just convenient.”

“You don't like him?”

“As I said, he complains a lot.”

“...You'd rather still be roomed with me?” Jack asked, and finally, Gabriel turned, stalking back towards his door, leaning against it as they looked one another in the eyes. They knew what was being suggested here. Gabriel hardly looked pleased by it.

“ _Yes,_ alright?” He growled, voice low, whispering. “Is that the answer you want to hear, Jack?”

“I saw it in your eyes.”

“Look.” Gabriel interrupted. “It doesn't matter _what_ you saw. This?” He motioned his fingers between them. “Whatever _the fuck_ this _thing_ is that we seem to end up in? It isn't safe. It isn't allowed.”

“Right.” Jack agreed, looking away. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

“It's too late now, isn't it? Bennison is going to bitch to half his team and then we'll never hear the end of it.” His eyes rolled and he turned away. “You should probably just go.”

“Thank you sir.”

“...For what?” Gabe asked suddenly, putting his guitar case back in the corner.

“The training. I look forward to impressing you in our next session.” Jack said, smiling faintly. As always, it was Jack's tone that lightened the situation slightly. For a moment, he was able to let go of his annoyance and embarrassment. Gabriel looked away, smirking somewhat, always a little charmed by Jack's smile.

“I'm sure you will, Jack.” Gabriel said, keeping his back to the door. He heard Jack's chuckle. “Dismissed.” Gabe added, and he head Jack pace across the room to fetch his shoes and his fatigue top and head out.

 

_What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Gabriel?_

 

~

 

A weakness. That is all they were. And Gabriel had decided he did not need or want to see the rest of them. How could they possibly help now, from what he'd seen, and what Jack thought of him now? How could they not only make him feel worse? Was there anything to salvage by learning them all? Was there anywhere he could go, or anything he might see that might somehow right what he felt in his soul?

Would his life still be worth living after it was all said and done?

 

_Would Jack be happier if he was gone?_

 

Why was that the thought that came to his mind, just then? His black and red eyes turned down, peering down through his mask towards the edge of the cliff. He slipped forward, almost awkwardly leaning forward so that he could peer down over the side, into the crushing waters below.

He could do it. He could drop and get away, flee across the ocean... Or he could wait another few minutes to smuggle aboard another shuttle. His talons pressed against the plush grass, crushing it under his weight, reminded of their SEP room again.

It would be so easy to get away.

To disappear.

 

For a long moment, it was just the sound of the wind and the waves. Gabe could hear the own sound of his breathing, and his eyes closed. He sat back on his heels, sighing into the night.

 

_“I don't reckon you'll find many answers out there.”_

 

The voice was so casual, so familiar that for a moment, Gabriel thought that he had imagined it. His eyes opened slowly, and he realized he hadn't. The southern drawl, the faint sound of spurs as the faint click of heels sounded on the white stone masonry some distance behind him. _Bingo._

The name bubbled onto to Gabriel's lips as soon as it came into his mind.

“ _Jesse.”_ The shade slowly twists, ghosting to a stand now facing the walkway, and there he is.

Modern age cowboy, standing there in all his ridiculous flair. The wind whips at his serape and his hat. His arms are crossed over his chest, that deadeye is looking right at him. There's a cigar between his lips, and for a moment, the smoke obscures his face, until the wind carries it away. The red cherry lights up his bearded features, and slowly, he comes back to Gabriel's mind. It isn't enough to tell him everything, but he knows beyond question that McCree was like a brother to him.

“They told me you didn't remember much.” Jesse replies.

 _“I don't.”_ Reaper rasped in reply.

“You seem to remember me fine.”

“Just your name. Your voice. I'd hear it sometimes. _A feeling._ ”

“A feeling... I hope it ain't the feelin' you get when you're huntin' all those people. Is it? The media says you're a bad man. Some of these folks agree.”

“ _And which are you?”_ Gabriel asks, taking half a step forward, ignoring the question.

For a long moment, the two regard each other, and finally McCree steps forward, within' arms reach. He removes his cigar and exhales the smoke away from him. “Well I ain't the judge, now am I? It ain't my decision. But if you're askin' me... The jury's still out, I'd guess. Show me your face, Reyes. I have to know it's you.” He presses.

Reaper wants to run. He wants to disappear, to fade away like so many snowflakes in the sun, but something about Jesse being there sets off a small alarm in his head.

“Why are you here, Jesse?” Reaper asks.

“Don't you mind that. Show me your face.” He repeats.

“Jesse-” Reaper repeats, growling.

“Show me your goddamn face, Reyes.” McCree almost snarls.

Reaper stares at him for a long moment, his body tensing up. Finally, reluctantly, he reaches up and unclasps his mask, and draws it down and away from his face. The light from McCree's cigar lights it up enough for the gunslinger to see him.

Those dark eyes with their red halos, the blackened pits of his eye sockets, the patchy hair and goatee, the familiar old scars, the slight bumps under his lips where his fangs have pushed them out. If Jesse is afraid of him, or startled, he makes no evidence of it.

“Well I'll be damned.” He all but whispers then, drawing away his finished cigar and loosely flicking it off the cliff. “After all these years... here you are in the flesh...” It was clear that Jesse didn't know how to feel. He struggles for a moment with his emotions, but can't look away. Gabriel can see the way his eyes have glazed over just slightly. He's reached down and removed his glove from his one good hand, and has extended it out to him. “It sure is good to see you again, boss.”

 _Boss._ The word echoes in his mind, a memory of having heard it a thousand times before. He glances down at the hand, then slowly reaches down and shakes it.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel asks again now, finding his voice stronger than before.

“Lets go inside and have a drink. I'll tell you all about it. The flight here ain't exactly comfortable, if you know what I mean. A man could use a good, strong drink.”

Yeah, Gabriel thought, if only the alcohol here seemed to sooth him the way it used to. Just like that, he's slipped away from the edge, following after the cowboy who's turned off and is heading back inside the facility. This late at night, the halls are empty, as is the eating lounge. The lounge itself isn't anything fancy, but it's the first time Gabe's seen it. It's a lot like a cafeteria, with long white tables and benches, but there's planters scattered intermittently, holo-teles on the wall, and a kitchen in back. At this hour, no one's manning the kitchen, so he follows McCree as the man helps himself, setting out two tumblers, and filling either one with whiskey. He doesn't even bother to ask Gabe what he would have had; it's like he knew, and had known for a long while that this was Gabe's favorite drink, or perhaps it was once, before he was Reaper. He hands one of the two out to Gabe, then slips back into the lounge, sitting in a corner which has marginally more comfortable recliners and round coffee tables, similar to what one might find at a modern cafe. Gabriel sits with him, and sets his mask aside.

“Why don't we start with you tellin' me why you were out there on the cliffs, thinkin' about killin' yaself?” McCree asks bluntly, leaning back, kicking an ankle up to rest on his knee. Gabe's eyes rest on the spinning spur.

“How can you know what I was out there for? Why were you out there in the first place? You still haven't answered me.” Gabriel insists, bringing his drink up to his lips that feel dry and cracked, sipping, sighing only slightly at the flavor.

Yes, an old favorite, he discovered.

Jesse has fixed him with a hard look. He's quiet, and he drops his voice as he speaks due to the sensitive nature of the topic. “Ya think I ain't ever looked down a barrel in my lifetime, Reyes? I know what a man looks like when he's standing on his last legs. You look fit for the gallows... And I think everyone else knows it too. That's why I'm here. For you.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel's eyes narrow at him. If anyone has noticed his fragile mental state, no one's said so, or at least not tried to repair it.

“I know you, Reyes. Backwards and forwards. Inside and out. I know how you think. You and me? We were like brothers. You gave me a purpose. You steered my young mind into a place that I could be useful- well, you an' good ol' Amari. I never forgot that... And now... Even if it seems like no one else is going to, I'm not leavin' 'til you're good. It's the least I can do.”

“And if I don't? What if I _can't_ be fixed, Jesse?”

For a solid minute, the two stared at one another, until Jesse leaned forward, his foot coming to the floor again as his elbows pressed to his knees, the whiskey glass tucked between his two hands, metal and flesh alike.

“Is that why you were out there? You think that this is all for nothin'? That... That because of everythin' that's happened, thing's can't go back to the way they were?”

“No. They can't. Look at me now. You said you knew me. Did I eat _people_ then, Jesse? Did I have these?” he gestures the fangs, “Or this?” He motioned the outfit he wore. “There is no future for me here, Jesse. You said it yourself. I hunt people. I have to, just to stay alive... _If_ this is even _alive_. The only people who seem to want me here are Angela and Reinhardt, maybe Ana.”

“And me.” Jesse interrupts. “When Overwatch fell... I left. Did they tell ya that? I couldn't stand what had happened. I couldn't bring myself to look at your grave and think that it was true. Everyone said you'd betrayed us. That you caused the explosion. An' That you were this... poisonous person. No, Sir. I wasn't havin' that.” He shook his head and tapped his metal fingers against his glass. “Now here you are... The Reaper. Talon's... Project. I don't fuckin' understand, but I know I sure as hell wasn't gonna let you throw yourself off the cliff.”

“I wouldn't have done it.” Gabe admits, looking away. “I think about it... But the truth is that it wouldn't kill me. I don't think anything can, Jesse... Angela made me promise not to but... Well... I don't think I'd manage to even if I wanted to break that promise... I suppose it's easier to let Jack kill me.”

“... Easier?” Jesse asks quietly, brows lofting somewhat. He finishes his drink, then sets it down a bit heavily, the sound of it echoing off the walls of the empty room. The man's voice lowers even further, and he fixes Reyes with a strong look. “Let me tell you somethin', Mister. Killin' you... As much as he might seem like he wants to... It would be the hardest damn thing he'd ever do in his life. I know it. He's hurt, Gabe. Real bad. Maybe just as hurt as you are. He's just like everyone else. Lookin' for some kind of... relief. Maybe he's confused as to how to get it, but I ain't. We're gonna figure this out, and you're gonna remember who you were. We're going to set this straight.”

Gabriel looks down and away. He finishes his drink too, and moves to stand, preparing to leave.

“Where ya goin'?” Jesse asks, looking up at him.

“... The drinks are done.”

“Oh come on now, boss. You can't tell me it ain't good for you to see my ugly mug again.” And this makes Reaper pause. His eyes land on the floor, and he reaches down to scoop up his mask from the table.

“Thank you, Jesse... For having faith in me. But I might make you eat your words yet. If this all ends up true, we're all going to feel real stupid, aren't we? What if all the things they said about me actually happened, and I am this... this traitor? What if I did set off the explosion? What if _I_ broke Overwatch?”

“It ain't true.”

“It could be, and if it is... if it is, everything you're standing for will be ruined.” Gabriel set down his empty glass, then turned then and began to stalk away, his loud metal boots sounding off of the white marble flooring.

“I still want to talk, goddamnit, Reyes!” McCree growls, reaching for his hat and moving to catch up with Reaper, who's put his mask back on. Jesse isn't letting him leave. The man looks almost desperate, though Reaper can tell it isn't a look he wears on his face often. He may as well be begging him to stay. Black smoke seethes out of Gabe's mask as he replies.

“I don't like the public places. I scare the workers. More alcohol in my room.” He says flatly, an invitation, and nothing more. Perhaps it would be nice to get answers from someone who wasn't just doing science experiments on him, or someone who didn't trust him. Jesse seemed to trust him implicitly, despite everything. The gunslinger's head tilted some.

“Well alright. Suppose it's a good thing I can let you into your room then, hm?”

“You can?”

“Where do you think I went first? It wasn't until you didn't reply that I decided to take a walk around the base. If you didn't wanna talk to me, I didn't wanna barge in. Night air will do a man good... You been sneakin' in and out regularly?”

“Not regularly... Enough. No one's tried to stop me.”

“Mmh, I reckon not. Who would? You always go dressed up like that?”

“... No... _You're_ one to talk.” He rasped, rolling his eyes some behind his mask. Jesse laughs some at him.

“Guess I am, aren't I?” He smirks. “Some things never change. You always did hate my fashion choices. You were always tryin' to put me in somethin' black, with more red in it... They say you ain't yourself... Hah.”

It wasn't until they arrived at Gabe's room and Jesse let him in that he gathered the full weight of Reaper's... fashion. The black, the red, the black and white scene on the holo-tele, the scattered empty bottles. His brows hoisted once more. “... By the look o'things you ain't changed a lick. Little... Drama-..ey... Don't ya think?”

“ _Drama-ey?”_ Reaper replies defensively.

“I.. ah... Ya know, nevermind.” McCree gives up, and moves to the small table with its chairs, finding the box of alcohol that Angela had brought him. It's almost all gone at this point, except for half a bottle of bourbon and an entirely untouched bottle of wine.

“You have a lot of questions.” Reaper points out finally.

“I'll tell ya mine if ya tell me yours, brother.” McCree says as he opens the bottle of bourbon and gives it a sniff. He recoils only minutely before floundering his metal hand over a glass, only to find it's used. Gabe has disappeared into the bathroom, and when he returns, he's holding a fresh, clean glass to Jesse, and his hood is down. He sheds the coat entirely, and works off his gauntlets. The small snippets of strange, pale white flesh catch the cowboy's eyes, but he doesn't ask questions. Eyes widen only slightly when he spies the extra arms, but for once, they're not mentioned, and a good thing, too, because Gabe is in no mood to explain them _yet again._ “You gonna have a drink?” he asks as Gabe folds his coat, sets his gauntlets aside, and his mask atop them, then sits on the edge of the bed to begin removing his boots.

“Wouldn't help.”

“... That's part of the condition then, is it?”

“Something like that.” Gabriel replies, and Jesse makes a small sound of lament.

_“Christ almighty.”_

The man sips as Reaper pulls away his armor, leaving him in just black pants and a long sleeve black undershirt, casual at last.

“Ya look like this all the time now then, do ya?” The extra arms have settled behind Gabe's back, idly dangling as he moves to take the seat opposite McCree.

“Not all the time. Only when I'm starving.”

“You're starving?”

“For now.”

“For now? How long have you been here? Christ, ain't uh... Ain't they feedin' ya... or somethin'?”

“A month. A little more maybe. And No. Angela says that she needs to study me in my... various forms of decay in order to properly help me.” He's looking down now, black smoke drifting off of his very flesh, so thick that it almost clouds the distance between them.

“... They're starvin' ya?” McCree asks, his voice is suddenly on edge.

“ _Part of the cure, I guess.”_ Reaper sneers, his voice echoing and deep. While Jesse can catch the difference in tone, he knows that the words were ones that Gabe would have said himself, years ago. For Gabe, the cost had often been worth the prize.

“Bullshit.” McCree snaps. “You ain't some... freakshow, Reyes. This ain't right. They should be doin' somethin' about it.”

“And what do you presume they do, Jesse? Sacrifice one of their own so that I can feel a little better for a while? It would take three or four of them just to satisfy me. There isn't a whole lot of murder around this place to keep me satisfied. If it helps her help me, then so be it.” But the reply hardly seemed to placate McCree, who looks mutely furious. Gabriel looks at him across the table. “Tell me about before. About how we knew each other. About how we met.” He hopes that by having it told to him, that it might trigger the memory of how it happened. Jesse knows that this is just a distraction from his anger, but he divulges all the same.

 

“I was a punk in the Deadlock gang. After things went south at home, I decided I'd make my own way. I figured I could do a better job at raising myself than my dead-beat dad could. He was a drunk. Treated my mother like shit. Step-dad. Stereotypical broken home, I know. Sounds like some pathetic old movie... A bunch of old movies, I guess. My life's always kinda seemed to emulate that. So I figured that one day I'd come back and put a bullet right between his eyes... Only I didn't. Somewhere along the way I lost track of that. Somewhere, I learned to fight. Got real good at killin'. Got to callin' myself Jesse so much that I damn near forgot my real name. Not that it mattered... I ain't that little kid anymore. You found me there, in Deadlock. I still remember it like it was yesterday. You had this look in your eyes like you were seein' red. Like anyone who got in your way was just... Just askin' to die. You had me in your sights, but right before you might've pulled the trigger, you let me go. I don't know why, but I wasn't dumb enough to ask questions...

You must have seen somethin' in me, because you came back... Two, maybe three weeks later. You found me hiding out and rounded me up. We had us a small fight, but in the end, you put me in cuffs and dragged me off, found myself in an Overwatch detention block. I didn't know it then, but you were savin' my life. I was so sure I was gonna hate ya... Ya sat me down and we had a small talk. It didn't need to be very long. You made the choice pretty clear. I could either come with you and become one of your own, or join my Deadlock friends in prison- or death... Ya told me that there was no future with them, but that you could help me. Said that I could save myself, and my mum... That was all it took, I guess. I agreed. You showed me how to move. I knew how to shoot. You taught me strategy. You taught me how to read a man's thoughts through his eyes, Gabe.

You showed me that I could be somethin' bigger than myself. You were... Like a big brother. Always protected me, always saw that I didn't get myself into somethin' too deep, always the first one to chew me out when I done wrong. You put that peacekeeper in my hand and told me to shoot from the heart... Like it was just another old movie reference that I'd get. Told me to remember who I was doin' it for.

So I guess that's who you were to me. That's what we were.

And that's why I'm here.

To remind you who you're doin' this for.

To remind you that this is bigger'n you.

To repay a kindness ya done me years ago.

I ain't about to sit here and let you get yourself killed, Reyes.

Even if you think it's what you want.

I promise you it ain't.”

 

Those words repeated themselves in Gabriel's mind long after McCree had finished his drink and left, but no memory came, nothing to prove the words Jesse had spoken, but it sounded fond, and despite that it always hurt, Gabriel wanted to see it.

 

But the question remained...

_Who was he doing this for?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, thanks so much for reading, as usual! 
> 
> Tomorrow I'm going to Michigan for two weeks, so my next update might be slightly intermittent. However, I'm taking my laptop and I'm really hoping to get the next chapter out on schedule as usual!
> 
> ENJOY! Please share this with friends and feel free to send asks and fan art my way if you feel so inclined!


	15. Hope

It's just past noon, and Gabriel is out in the middle envirodome, tending to a patch of carrots. There's two other people with him, but no one's talking. Everyone's contentedly eavesdropping on the birdsong that echoes like music from the tropical hills behind the domes. The daylight is warm and soaks through their clothing, enough that even Gabriel has mustered the courage to drop his hood. His skin was now about as pale as it could possibly get, and the differences between now and when he had first arrived were obvious to everyone who approached him, or at least, to those who dared get close enough. It had only been a couple days since Jesse's arrival on the island, but no more memories had come, all the same, and Gabe had not made any effort to coax them, at least not beyond the initial night. All the better, he supposed, convincing himself that he was only still here to appease Angela and Jesse. Jesse, an enigma to him even still. He didn't know him, at least, not in the traditional sense that someone should. And yet... He couldn't shake the feeling that he simply _couldn't_ go back on his word to the gunslinger.

It seemed that while Gabriel was content to simply be quiet and content with his... mediocre itinerary for the day, Jesse was anything but. Very distantly, he could hear shouting. A few of them could, as they stopped what they were doing and all looked in the direction of it. It was coming out of the cracked windows of Angela's doctor's office, which sat right on the edge of one of the domes. Her windows opened right into the dome itself, and now, everyone in the near vicinity could hear the shouting.

_“Science?! Research?! You've got to be fuckin' shittin' me, Angela! This ain't fuckin' right and you know it!”_

There was a lull in the sound, one could only imagine that poor Angela was trying to calm the man down.

“ _Like hell! I ain't gonna fuckin' stand here and let you tell me that starvin' him is for his own fuckin' good.- What? Out of your hands!? Bullshit! You're the fuckin' doctor, Angela! It's your call, isn't it?!”_ Gabriel had put down his rake for the moment and sighed, drawing up his hood, stalking away from the patch so that he could make his way out of the dome towards the doctor's office, to interrupt them. The last thing he needed was for Jesse to start causing even more drama. Things were tense enough as it was, and if he could do anything to relieve it, he would. As he exited the dome, though, he all but ran face first into the incensed cowboy. There was fury in his eyes. Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him and following his eyes to where they glared over his own shoulder... Jack was there, sitting in the shade of a tree, reading a book as he often did in the middle of the day, subtly keeping an eye on Reaper, even if that wasn't what he said he was doing.

“Out of my way, Reyes.” He snapped coldly, his brown, fierce glare staring into Gabe's black and red stare. “Move.” He insisted. Gabriel didn't budge, but after a second, McCree shoved past him at any rate and began to stomp his way towards Jack. Really, Gabriel knew he should stop him, but at the same time, he wanted to see what was about to happen. Jack, oblivious, had set down his book and rose to greet Jesse. By the look of things, it was the first time they'd seen each other since Jesse's arrival.

“Hey there Jes-”

“ _You fuckin' asshole.”_ McCree suddenly snapped and before anyone could do anything, his metal arm recoiled and formed a tight fist. Gabe's breath caught in his throat, and he took half a step forward. The fist flew, and Jack was suddenly thrown back into the tree, his jaw bruising. Confusion sparked in his blue eyes, but Jesse was answering all Jack's confused questions in a string of muted curses. “You're fuckin' doin this, it's _your_ fuckin' call. You _sonofabitch.”_

 _“JESSE!”_ Angela was suddenly catching up, having chased after him. “Stop this madness! You're a full grown man! Handle it like one.”

“Oh, Oh I am. We're gonna handle this like men right here, right now, come on old m-”

Jack swung. Sure, his arm was flesh and bone, and he had several years on Jesse, but he was a Soldier. Jesse wasn't. Not like they were, anyway. All it took was the one swing to put the gunslinger on the ground. Gabriel was suddenly rushing forward, hands curling his claws into his palms.

“GENTLEMEN!” Angela stopped, putting herself between Jack and the crumpled McCree. Gabriel was suddenly at his side, kneeling. His eyes twisted upwards to Jack, equal parts angry and confused. For a moment it seemed like Jack might rebuke, or that Jesse still had more to say, but Gabriel wasn't having that.

“Stop.” He snapped at everyone involved, his voice deep, sharp and commanding, and that was all it took. Jack's blue eyes met Gabe's, noticing the way he'd almost become... Protective over McCree. It took the white-haired soldier aback somewhat. Gabe used to do the same thing back in the day... Back in Blackwatch... This detail wasn't ignored. _Was it possible?_ More and more, as Jack observed Reaper, the more he began to see Gabriel. He felt his stomach tighten with nerves and his throat stilled itself somewhat. Gabriel helped McCree to his feet, dusting grass off of his shoulder.

“This ain't over.” Jesse growled to Jack, practically seething. While Jack wore a sturdy bruise along his jaw, Jesse nursed a bleeding lip, swelling with irritation. There was fire in his glare, the kind that Gabriel seemed to recognize.

“Yes, it is.” Gabriel growled to the younger man, whose head suddenly snapped towards him. Not willing to back down on his words, he continued. “It's over, and it's over now. I didn't ask you to fight my battles for me, Jesse...”

“He's only demanding this because he thinks you're dangerous! He's so caught up in his own little mind-fest-”

“Enough.” Gabriel interrupted, Reaper's rasping, intimidating timbre coming into his voice. Jack and Angela looked on wordlessly. “The cure doesn't come overnight... Jesse. This won't help anything... Angela has her own reasons for this... And Jack _isn't_ in control.”

“Like hell he isn't...”

“No. He isn't.” Angela barked venomously. “He advises us, but if you must know, No, Jack is not technically _part_ of Overwatch.” Now, this was news to both Jesse and Gabriel, who stared silently back at her. Jack glanced between them, then turned away without a sound, stalking away after scooping his book up off the ground. Angela continued, if more quietly, hoping to urge the garden workers back to their duties by calming things down. “Winston is in charge of Overwatch now. Jack has... adamantly refused to be officially associated.”

“...Why?” Jesse asked, seeming offended.

“... Come on. We can't talk about this out here.” She turned away and was moving back inside the compound, making her way through the halls until she found her relatively secluded office. This time, she reached up and closed the windows that connected to the dome beyond. She turned then to face the two, and motioned the room. “Have a seat.” Gabriel took the chair, forcing Jesse to lean against the examination table. His arms crossed. It seemed neither of them were keen on having their feet dangle for a conversation like this. Neither of the men said a word, but Angela continued all the same. “He won't say outright why he won't join Overwatch... I would guess that it's because it's easier for him to remain... anonymous. It's easier for him to go and do what he does, if he isn't affiliated with us. We don't have to answer for whatever crimes he may commit in his... mission. He helps us, where he can. Yes, he advised that Gabriel be closely watched, and that we monitor his feeding habits... But the decision for him not to eat, that was left up to Winston. After seeing what happened in many of our previous battles, he thought that keeping you... a little weaker was safer for everyone.”

“Everyone except him, you mean.” Jesse rebuked sharply.

“... Well, yes. But this was only temporary, Jesse. We had no intention of starving him indefinitely. Additionally, it gives me the chance to fully document how his body reacts during various phases. It means that I can more properly care for him, and help him with my medicine.”

“Lets talk about that.” Gabriel interrupts. “You took my blood weeks ago, but I haven't heard a thing about it. I do need at least part of it back, you know.”

“Ah... Yes. The nanites. They have been eager to get back to you. I can tell. I've already lost a few in my studies, trying to decipher them.”

“Out with it.” Reaper growled aggressively. “I've been here long enough. I haven't hurt anyone, or anything. I deserve to know what you know, don't you think? I'm not asking to feed, I'm asking for answers.” and for a moment, he almost felt like Mercy had shut down. It looked as though she might not answer at all, or that perhaps she was breaching some kind of secret protocol by talking about it to him... Her blue eyes turned down, and finally she came to sit on the swiveling white doctor's stool.

“You asked me before how it was that I helped to... make you what you are. You asked me why I was responsible for what happened to you... I will tell you now, why. We have been experimenting with nanites for some time.. years. After the explosion, after everything... When we found your body, and we found Jack's, I was willing to do whatever it took to try and save you both...

With Jack, I was able to recover him entirely. The nanites came in, did their work, and died off, as they were suppose to...” Her eyes trailed then to Gabriel, softening. “But then I saw you. Your injuries were far, far greater than Jack's were. You had been almost completely crushed. It was almost impossible to tell it was you, under there. You... Died. You were more gone than anyone else would have tried, but I...” She looked down, gulping hard. “I knew everything you'd done, and how much we needed you. I was afraid, and I did the first thing I could think of. I knew I didn't have much time. I... used my healing stream on you, on your body, and as you bled out, I replaced what you lost with as many nanites as I could get my hands on... Your body repaired itself, but you.. Your mind was still, Gabriel. Nothing passed through it. Your heart would not beat again... After three days of trying to fix you and failing, we finally put you to rest. We buried you, Gabriel...

Then... Later. We found that your grave had been... disgraced. You had been removed, your tomb broken open. We do not know for sure what happened, but we can only assume that Talon stole you...”

“But the nanites... They should have died. Wouldn't they?”

“In a small quantity, absolutely. But... I had injected you with much more. In higher concentrations, the nanites are more capable of keeping themselves alive... It would seem that they were still alive when your body was stolen... But... There's something else. Something worse.”

“ _What'n god's green earth could be worse than that, Doctor?”_ Jesse interjected bitterly. Her sapphire stare snapped towards him.

“The tests I've been doing. The blood, it's... It's strange. I've found the nanites but they're not... They're not the same.”

“ _What do you mean they're not the same?”_ Reaper growled, his agitation showing through his voice. It was still strange to hear that voice coming through Gabe's lips without a mask between them.

“The nanites. They've changed, Gabriel. They're not the same as when I put them in you. I can't even guarantee they're the same one. It's like... They've been altered, or replaced... But they're so advanced, they behave as if they've a mind of their own... The recoil, they school like fish, they react in very... human ways. It's like they've _evolved,_ Gabriel. Part of me wants to say that perhaps Talon had something to do with it. Changed them, experimented on you somehow... But I don't think they have that kind of Tech.”

“They have Sombra. I bet they could get it if they wanted.” Reaper rumbled. Angela made a small, thoughtful hum, looking away.

“Sombra is not a doctor, Gabriel, and something tells me that is not the answer. All the same, the nanites are part of you now. You and them. One in the same. It is possible that with enough time and money, and testing, I might be able to cure you... But, if I did... You might not survive the encounter. I do not even know that your body is capable of holding itself together without them. For all I know, they're the only thing keeping you alive. If I did remove them, you wouldn't be as you are now. You'd be human... You'd be weak, possibly crippled.”

“ _You're saying I'm not human.”_ Reaper growled defensively, moving to stand.

“Not _entirely,_ Gabriel. Relax.”

“ _Relax? Ziegler, are you telling me now that I'm a machine? That I'm part of the very race that I signed up to eradicate?”_ The timbre of his voice became harrowing and cold.

 

_Was Gabriel Reyes an omnic? Had this happened?_

 

“Calm down, Reyes-” She started, but she was recoiling all the same. She could still see the rage in his eyes. Gabriel's hatred for omnics would never likely fade, even though tensions with them had calmed considerably since those days. Jesse shifted now, eyes turning over to Reaper, his hand reaching out and resting on his shoulder... It was the metal hand, a reminder that Jesse had lost some of himself, too.

“You're still human, boss. You still bleed. You still think. You still feel. You're still yourself... Just... just give it a minute. Think about what she's tellin' you.” He seemed to sigh. “You were born human, and human's all you're ever gonna be, eh?”

Gabriel was seething from where he stood. His anger wasn't directed at her, and she knew that, but hell if he wasn't scary when he was angry. She shot Jesse a small, grateful look, then glanced back at Gabriel.

“Everything will be all right, Gabriel... We just need more time to study... I have been hesitant to tell you this, because I imagined you might react like this... I... I would not classify you as an omnic, no... Something in between, perhaps, like a hybrid, or some other entity altogether. But as Jesse says, you will always be human, regardless what form your body takes... If it's true that your nanites have been tampered with, then there is the possibility that I can reverse them. If they have... evolved, then there is the possibility that I can replace them... But this is all hypothetical... I... can't condone doing anything to them if I think it would cost you your life.”

“ _Is this life, Ziegler? Is it?”_ The wraith extended his arms out to either side; all four of them showing up, the claws wide, the shadows drifting off of him in heavy waves. “Look at what I have become. I have a hunger that is only satisfied by death, no memories to remind me of who I was, and no memories of the people I once lived for. And even then, some of those people I used to live for don't even want me here. Tell me, why should I stay here- why should I try to fix myself at all, when I've got nothing to live for? Jack doesn't even-” He stopped himself right there. Jack. _Jack._ It always came down to **Jack.** His eyes closed and he backed away, turning his eyes away. “The damage has been done. All that I have done has shaped who I am, and what I am. Jack will never see me for who I used to be. All of the scars I've healed over are nothing compared to the one he wears. I will never be the same in his mind as I once was.”

“And is that what you want, Gabriel? For Jack to love you again?” Angela interrupted. “Could you want to live for us? For me, for Jesse and Ana and Reinhardt? The people who want to see you recover? It is very clear to me that you are our Gabriel. I've known it for a while now, and it's no longer a question to me... You should live for _you_ , Gabriel. Not for Jack. Do what makes _you_ happy.”

And what would make Gabriel happy? He didn't even know, and he was sure no one knew. Justice for what had happened to Henrique and his Mother? He'd gotten that when they defeated the omnics the first time, even if he no longer recalled it, he knew it had happened. Revenge for what had been done to him? By all accounts, it seemed to have been an accident, if he was to believe what Mercy had been saying, that she'd only been trying to save him. Who then was to pay for what he was?

_Talon._

Had they stolen his body from his _rest_ and turned him into this thing? He suddenly needed to know. Once again, Gabriel found himself in the place where he was demanding answers. Where one door closed, another opened. He _had_ to get back to Talon. He _had_ to find out, somehow. Surely they would have records of what had been done to him. Without another word, the wraith turned and ghosted away from the pair, through the cracks above and below the door, through it and back towards his room, needing some time with his thoughts.

McCree and Ziegler on the other hand, were left in quiet to themselves for a moment after the man left. Their eyes met, and Jesse spoke the words on Angela's mind.

“He seems awful concerned about what Jack thinks of him... You figure he still got feelin's for the man?” He asked curiously, and Angela shrugged gently.

“I can't say. It's hard to know, isn't it? Who can rightfully tell what either of them think just now? They're both hurt. That much is obvious. They need help, and time... But I do not know if there's enough time to mend what was once between them... Perhaps they can... Or perhaps it is better that they stay separated... I cannot say, Jesse... It pains me to see him hurting like this... I'm sure it hurts Jack, too, in some way. Anyway... You should go. Try not to punch him again, yes? Jack isn't the kind of man to accept defeat if you challenge him again... And... You may want to avoid mentioning his age.”

“Ah.. hah. Sensitive to it then, is he?” Jesse smirks. Angela's smile is a little softer, a little more sad.

“Something like that.”

“Mind if I ask you somethin', Doc?” Jesse asked as he tipped his hat just slightly deeper on his head, he had straightened up, getting ready to leave. Her eyes met his in question, saying nothing. “I heard you say before that the 'Watch was shut down for a reason. That seemed to be the way you felt after everything. So what then are you doin' here? Startin' this all up again?”

“It _was_ shut down for a reason.” Angela agrees, nodding. She looks down to her notebook for a moment in thought before continuing. As she does, the light from the window catches her eyes, lighting up the side of her face. “But Overwatch is more than just a company, Jesse. It's not just... It isn't another military installation. For many people, thousands, and millions of people, Overwatch is a symbol. It's hope. Hope that maybe we can walk out of another Omnic Crisis, or hope that we can stop organizations like Talon.”

“And what's'it to you?” He asked abruptly.

She smiled faintly, sadly. “For me its a hope that some of my mistakes can be undone. That I can help to repair our family... Not many people know this, Jesse... But Overwatch was all I had. I have no family to go home to, no husband, no children, nothing. It wasn't until I joined Overwatch that I really, truly began to feel like I was making a difference in the world. It wasn't until I came here, and met Jack, Gabriel, Genji and everyone else, that I began to feel like I mattered... When Overwatch fell, and Gabriel died, and you left... When everything fell apart, I began to feel like... Somehow they'd won. Talon had succeeded somehow. It got worse when we began to suspect the identity of Reaper. Now? Now I have no choice but to try and repair it. My family, anyway. That is what they were to me.”

Jesse can see her eyes gloss over in the sunlight as she looks away. She's trying to be strong, and he understands. She looks down and the first tear leaves her eyes.

“This is my fault, Jesse. If I hadn't done what I did; if I had just... If I had just _let_ Gabriel die... He wouldn't be in as much pain as he's in right now. He wouldn't have done all these things. He wouldn't be what he is. If I -” A bitter sob chokes off the last of her words, and Jesse suddenly removes his hat, setting it aside on the table, moving forward and putting his arms around her.

“Hey now. It's alright, Angie. Hey, there... Shh.” He comforts, his voice is soft, gentle, not like it had been towards Jack minutes ago. “There wasn't anything anyone coulda' done. No one knew what was goin' on. Cause'a you, Gabe's here, Jack's here. Overwatch is around and we're gonna do some good things for this world. We'll bring them back, Angie. Don't you give up on that.” He says, one hand reaching for a tissue on her counter, and bringing it up to her cheeks. “Go on now. Don't smear that make-up of yours.” He offers, and Mercy cracks a small laugh at his words. As always, Jesse's able to offer a gentlemanly touch to a wounded situation. “Y'want me to go and get Genji boy?” He asks.

Quietly, Angela nods, sucking in a breath. “Yes I... I think that would be helpful. Thank you, Jesse.” She says, offering him a smile, grateful. He chuckles at her, turns to retrieve his hat, then tips it at her.

“Sure thing. I'll send him for ya, then I'm off to pester that ol' sniper of yours. Someone tells me she's been lurking around... Figure I owe 'er some laughs.” The man turns and heads out, his spurs clicking as he strides back down the hall.

 

Hours later, Gabriel's in his room on his back, staring up at the flickering lights, mimicking sunset in shades of red, orange and violet. He reminisces over the few memories he has from SEP, of who he used to be, and who Jack was. Who they'd been to each other.

 _Tell me this will be worth it,_ he thinks to himself. He reaches up, touching his lip, vaguely recalling the kiss that Jack gave him once. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost remember the way hands felt on him, or the way Jack looked, smiling when he was happy or high. It makes Gabe smirk faintly. The hours tick by quietly as he rests, somewhere between awake and asleep. In some way, he wants to dream. He wants to have another memory, something sweet to lull him asleep, and distract him from reality... But then he remembers the truth in all of its grim detail. That he's become some kind of monster... Possibly an omnic? Or some experiment concocted by Talon? He has no idea. And in the back of his mind, there's the sad doubt that he and Jack will ever be the same. Why does he want this so badly? Thus far, since his return, Jack has done nothing to suggest he should want to, or that he himself even remembers the way things were. But... The jealousy the once-blonde had hinted at before made it painfully obvious that he remembered everything.

...Gabriel found himself wanting to talk to him. What could it hurt, he pondered? The Soldier wouldn't attack him, and he supposed, even if he did, he might gain some kind of insight, some kind of hint as to what Jack thinks, other than the blatant obvious that he spouted the other day in the garden. The memory of it makes Gabriel cringe, and he rolls over on his side on the bed. _Talk to him._ A little voice in the back of his head whispers, but when it does, Reaper replies. _Yes. Show up there, and let him show you first hand how much you don't belong here._

His brows pinch tight and his eyes close, fingers curl into the fabric of the bed, claws prying at the threads until a few of them give way. His body curls as he struggles to control his raw emotions. The man wants to scream, but doesn't. Hunger tugs at his strings, causing him to groan in pain. Weakened, his body fails to hold itself together properly, and it isn't long before he feels the presence of those two extra arms, clawing across the bed and pressing against it. He pushes himself up and heads to the bathroom.

_Talk to him._

_Try._

He fills the sink with hot water and leans over, letting the steam curl up and around his features, mixing with the black spirals that drift off of his person, out of his mouth and nose, and from the very surface of his skin. The wraith looks at himself in the mirror, his sheet white skin, the darkness gathered in his eye sockets, and the blackness of his eyes themselves, with their thin rings of crimson horror. The fangs just inside his mouth sit unused, pointless, unwanted. His hair grows in in patches, discolored, and the claws of his hands remind him as he turns the faucet to off that even those aren't human anymore. _Face it Gabriel, now your outsides match your insides._

The thought insights a rage within the man, and he growls, suddenly letting loose and letting his claws slash out in the mirror in front of him, drawing four hideous scratches in its wake. The mirror cracks, spider-webbing away from the jagged edges and cracking his reflection into a million pieces.

 _There. Now that's more accurate. A broken man with so many sides that he doesn't know where to start, and he doesn't like what he sees. A shattered soul, incomplete, fragmented._ He looks down into the water, and cups a hot pool of it into his hands, drawing it up to his face and massaging it in. The heat seems to help, but the sound of the sink draining almost distracts him from the sudden buzzer at his door. His head turns, and he clears his throat, dries his face with a towel, and steps out.

“Gabe?” It's Jesse. “You awake?”

Gabriel comes to the door and bumps the comm device, only to give away that he is in fact, awake. But, he doesn't want to talk. Jesse enters a few seconds later, looking at Reaper, as he's moving away and is thumbing his hand over his mask, his back to the cowboy. The shattered pieces of the mirror catch the brunette's eyes from where he stands, and he glances that way, able to deduce with ease what had happened. Sadness falls into him.

“Hey.” the man says, but Gabriel only glances at him over his shoulder. “Come on. No need to be down like that. I'm gonna take you somewhere. Lets go.”

“Where are we going?” Gabriel asks.

“It don't matter... Put some warmer clothes on. It's getting' dark out, and uh... You'll want a hood.”

Gabriel looks away, but doesn't ask any more questions. He wraiths wordlessly into his coat, suppressing the extra arms, knowing they'll give him away. But then, so would the coat. Beneath that, he dresses more or less normally, with his tank top and pants, a casual pair of shoes that had been provided to him in the beginning.

“You'll.. uh.. Well. Never mind. It's fine. Lets go.” Jesse says, exiting the room, and Gabriel isn't far behind. As they go up that intensely long elevator, Jesse offers some vague hints as to their destination. “So uh... You ever been away from this side of the island?” He asks.

“No.” Reaper utters gruffly.

“Mmnh.” The cowboy grunts, “Good. Maybe you'll see somethin' new then.” They've reached the top floor. The sun has long set, and everyone's asleep. A chilled wind stirs the trees and the grass, whipping at Gabe's coat. But, McCree then heads down a way that Gabe hasn't been allowed to go before; towards the hangars. Hesitantly, the shade follows him, his black eyes combing over what he sees. As a large hangar door opens to a code McCree has put in, Gabe feasts his eyes on the tech. There's a few ships, some smaller jets, a couple of helecopters, and a at least five ground vehicles. All of them were in shades of white and dark grey, with their typical blue hard-light propelled tires. All of them were off at the moment, but Jesse approaches one, a small, dark grey two seater, and produces a key seemingly out of no where.

“McCree...” Gabe starts, and the man looks at him. “Is this... Allowed?”

“Well, if it were up to them, fun wouldn't be allowed, would it?”

“You'll be sorry if they find out-”

“What can they do to me, Reyes? They called me here. Get in.”

“Are we coming back?”

“Yes, for god sakes, _just get in the car before someone starts watchin' the cameras._ ” McCree urges, growing exasperated. Hesitantly, Gabriel obeys, and the car door shuts behind him. Seconds later, McCree has jammed his foot to the accelerator and they leave the hangar behind them. Gabe can see the door closing in a rear view mirror. They're quiet for a moment as Jesse takes them out of the compound, and onto a regular street. It's been a long time since Gabe was in a car, at least like this one, and not some kind of ship, though he had to admit, it was nice, somehow. The island was beautiful at night, all the fauna in muted shades of dark green and navy, the occasional bright orange neon street light passing overhead.

“What's the matter, ain't been on a road trip in a while?” Jesse asks, looking over. He puts the car on auto and removes his hands from the wheel, letting it steer as his rough hands fish out a cigar, light it up, and prop it between his lips. He takes a shallow breath, letting the taste, the scent of the tobacco sit in his mouth for a moment before exhaling.

“I suppose I expected you to be driving some kind of horse.” Gabe replies, a smirk cracking across his features.

“Oh go t'hell.” McCree laughs back at him, chuckling. His free hand flicks down to the radio, and some casual oldies play over the speakers, low volume, so that they could still talk.

“You going to tell me where we're going, or am I going to have to figure it out the hard way?” Gabriel asks, his mood lightening somewhat. But, Jesse doesn't reply right away. When he does. He's flicking ashes into a small built in tray inside the car, his eyes trailing over the car console, pushing a few buttons to direct it to where they were going, his voice becomes somber, almost.

“You might not remember me all that well, and I'm hopin' that'll change in time... but for now, all you gotta know is that I don't always play by the rules. Neither did you. It's why you and me got along so well. You and me were able to do a lot of things with Blackwatch. We did a lot of things that other soldiers couldn't stomach. Did some bad things, Reyes. Real bad things. But... We did those things because we knew it would help people. We knew that it would save lives, and it did. They called us heroes. And... I dunno. Maybe we were... Part of me never quite sat right with some of the things we did. Some things we did- you did- didn't seem like... Well they didn't seem like _you,_ to be frank. But... That was hard to gauge, because for you, the ends always seemed't justify the means... But you weren't a bad guy. You weren't evil... An' neither was I. We were all good people, even then. Even with our hands covered in blood. Sometimes doin' the right thing can lead you horrible places.”

“Is that where we're going now? Somewhere horrible?” Gabe presses, growing impatient with the story, not wanting to dwell on the monstrous things he's done.

“HAH. S'pose that depends on your definituon... Hopefully not today, anyway. My point is that Overwatch is good people. They're smart. They're cautious. They're doin' what they think is right, and maybe it _is_ right. But... I don't agree with it. I think they've lost sight of the big picture.”

“Oh? And what picture is that?” Gabe says, trying to be snarky.

All of his attitude is dropped when Jesse reaches into his vest pocket and draws out his wallet. There's a few credit cards, an ID, a few loose dollars, but what catches Gabriel's eye is far more valuable. Jesse draws it out. It's a small photograph, faded yellow and brown with age, tattered edges. It's everyone. The whole team. Overwatch, in its prime... Gabriel is standing right there, right next to Jack, Ana, Angela, and Jesse. Reinhardt is there too, and Torbjorn, leaning against a turret. Everyone's all smiles. Jack has his hand on Gabe's shoulder. They look... Happy.

 

 _“That's_ the big picture.” Jesse said, watching Gabe's features as his eyes comb over the photo. In his mind, Gabriel can hear laughter, fragments from that day, echoing in his mind. There's a warmth there that blossoms in him, and without realizing it, his eyes gloss over.

 

Jesse, seeing this, looks away, giving the man some sense of privacy, but he talks.

“They've forgotten that, Gabe, but I haven't. You _ain't_ a science experiment. You're not some monster. You're not some rabid terrorist. You're one of us. One of our friends. Our brothers. We lost you somehow... And it ain't right for them to treat you this way. I'm taking you somewhere you can get some help.”

“Help?” Gabriel asks suddenly, his eyes lurching up from the photo onto Jesse.

“You're in pain... I seen it. You're gonna feed. I don't care if hell or high water comes for me, but I ain't gonna sit by and watch them starve you because they're scared. Call it what you will, but you're starvin'. They're torturin' you, Gabe, and it ain't right. If they want me to leave when this is all said and done, fine, but at least I'll have done my bit.”

“Where are you taking me?” His voice is more insistent.

Jesse looks back over, relieved to see that Gabe's regained his composure.

“To the underground. There's a place on the far north-west coast that'll get us where we need to go. They're junkers there, from nearby. They fight and gamble. They die. A lot. I figure you can have your fill.”

“Jesse...”

“Goddamnit, Reyes, don't argue with me. My mind's made up.”

“It isn't _your_ decision.” Reaper growls, and the two lock eyes for a moment, both defiant. Jesse puts his hand down on the console and presses a button with his thumb. Slowly, the car pulls over to the side of the road and stops, and the two stare at each other.

“You mean to tell me, I'm gonna bust you out, get you somewhere you can feed, and you're not even going to accept the gesture?” McCree hisses. He sounds insulted.

“I'm saying that if Ziegler is going to help me at all, I _can't_ feed. Not yet.” Reaper's voice trembles with anger. “She's working on my blood, isn't she? She has to know what it is, she has to see it in order to help me. If I feed, it'll replace what she has, and what she's got locked in the vials... Well I don't know what will happen to it. Nothing good. How can she help me then? It'll prolong the problem.”

“And what's her medicine suppose to do anyway, Gabe?”

“Memories or maybe...”

“Maybe what? Make you feel normal again? Do you think that's possible? Don't you think she'd have done it already if she could? It ain't magic, Gabe. You're _hurt_.”

“So _what_ if I'm hurt? I put myself here, Jesse. I asked for this.”

“Like hell you did!”

“I _wanted_ to find help, Jesse. Help that Talon couldn't give me. I don't remember _anything_ of who I was. Not until I started leaving Talon. Only then did I start to feel... Better.”

“And this? Is this better?” Jesse snaps.

“Starving, so that I can possibly heal? So that I can remember? So that I can _be_ Gabriel Reyes again, Jesse? Yes. Yes, it's better.” Reaper snarls, his brows knitting some. “That's all I want. I want to stop being this _thing_ that people see, and remember who I was. I want to stop killing people just to feed. I want people to stop running away from me the moment they see me. I want Angela to stop feeling like I'm her responsibility. I want Jack to stop glaring at me like I've taken something from him. I want Ana to trust me like she apparently used to. I want a lot of things that I can't get, Jesse. A lot of things I can't get if I remain _the terrorist Reaper, working for Talon._ Do you understand, now? I can't be _me_ until I know who I was.”

“Seems to me, you're trying to get back to who you were, instead of being who you _are._ ” These words erupt from Jesse so quickly so profoundly, that Reaper is stunned into silence. They meet each other's eyes for a long moment before Gabriel looks away. “You can't go back to then, Reyes. You have to accept that this is who you are now. You're _not_ that man anymore. You're still Gabriel Reyes. You're just... different now. You can't undo this, this here.” he motions at the man, his shadowed state. “You can't make it... un-happen... Can't roll back time. This is what you are now, right? You going to let them do this to you?”

“Yes.” Reaper answers quickly, barely taking time to think. “Because the ends justify the means, Jesse, just as you said. Because I want to be better, somehow. This is what I am, it's true... But I get to choose how it looks. Like you said, I've done a lot of bad things. Someday, I'll have to pay for that. I want to know that before I'm gone, I'll have some good memories left over... Or that maybe I'll have left a few for someone else. This thing? This isn't my legacy, Jesse. I never asked for this. I have to make a change. If it means letting Angela starve me and take pictures of me, skin samples and blood, god knows what else, fine. So be it. I'd rather be a work in progress than a finished tragedy.”

And Jesse swallows hard. It's not the answer he wanted... But he understands.

“ _Hell. There's the Gabe I know._ ” He murmurs, finishing off his cigar and putting it out in the tray. “Well. I ain't gonna chase the rabbit no more. I know that look when you got your mind made up. You got it on now. Figure I'll turn this car around.”

“Don't.” Gabriel says, the edge leaving his voice. He looks down. “Jesse... Thank you. I... Appreciate this. And for earlier. You stood up for me. No one asked you to do that. I know that this isn't easy... I have memories of you. Small ones. You didn't agree with what I was doing. We butted heads sometimes, didn't we?”

“No different than brothers do, Gabe.”

“Well, thanks... Could we... Drive for a while?”

“You ain't been outside much?”

“Tired of being in my room.”

Jesse laughs, and pushes a few buttons on the console of the wheel. “Well, alright. We get in trouble, I'll tell 'em you asked.”

“Say what you want. It's _your_ face on the security cams.” Gabriel snorts at him, chuckling. The car steers back onto the road, and for a while, they just drive. Gabe's eyes peer over the landscape, the road, the sky, and they say nothing. Eventually Jesse lights up another cigar, and several hours later, they're back on their way to the base.

Jack's awake, and sitting in the darkness a short ways away when they finally pull back into the hangar. He says nothing, and does nothing to give himself away, merely puts his rifle down when he sees that McCree and Gabe are both back in one piece. He watches them as they walk back towards the housing facility.

When Jack hears Gabriel's laugh, his heart skips a few beats, and he smiles some.

...Maybe it's time, after all.

 

Days pass without incident. Jesse comes out into the garden with Gabriel, helping him here and there, but most of the time they talk, they joke. Jesse tells stories about old times, trying to jog Gabe's memories, but to no avail.

“You know I might be better off if that memory never comes back.” Gabe teases as he and Jesse sweat in the sun over a patch of potatoes that need tended.

“Aw hell. You'd have loved it. I ain't ever seen anyone blush that hard in my entire life. You should have seen Jack's face. Christ. I thought we'd never get that scowl off his face. I bet he still ain't been in the pool since he got here, has he?”

“I wouldn't know. At least I understand where Angela got the joke...”

“Joke? What joke, what do you mean?”

“She did that to me... A week or two ago. Told me she needed pictures of me, made me strip down damn near naked... Then Genji burst in- and Ana was right behind him.”

“Oh sweet lord.” McCree snorts, “That poor man. He never was quite right around nudity, at least not of other men... Though word is he used to be a bit of a hound back in the day. Real friendly with women like... Nowaday's though he's-”

“Smitten. Yeah. I know.” Gabe utters. “I guess I can laugh about it now, but I was mad then... I guess I don't really like people seeing me.”

“At least you've got a reason to be self conscious... er... I mean no offense of course, it's just-”

“Yeah, Yeah, I know Jesse. Dead man. I get it.” The wraith coughs, digging his tool back into the dirt and using his forearm to draw a line of sweat away from his pale brow, still covered with a hood.

“You know you could take that thing off... If it's hot. Everyone's seen you, sounds like.”

“Funny.” Gabe huffs in reply. “No, I'm told that when I'm like this, the sun might hurt me or something.”

“Oh for fucks sake, Gabe. You're not a goddamn vampire.” Jesse rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Gabriel relents, setting down his rake and straightening up. He reaches up and unzips the grey hoodie, letting it come open, and reluctantly he draws his hood down. Jesse looks at him, but does not let his gaze linger. He knows that Gabriel doesn't like stares. The hoodie comes off, revealing that Gabe hasn't bothered with a shirt underneath. His flesh is laid bare, every scar, evident, along with all of the muscle, and of course, the ghostly arms on his back. More than a few eyes look their way, among them, a pair of bright blues. Jack watches from his favorite place under a tall tree. His book is in his lap, but his eyes aren't upon it. Almost greedily, he looks on, unbeknownst to him, feasting his eyes on the body of his old lover. Gabriel. Jack feels a sigh sift out of him, his stern brow softening. It's good to see the shade loosening up, laughing, joking. Even if it's with Jesse, and not him. He almost seems... normal. Jack could get past the body, he decides instantly, and is taken aback by his own, immediate assessment. He looks _good,_ despite the paleness, and Jack's sure that he could get used to that all the same. And, scars looked good on everyone, Jack thought. He'd always found Gabe's facial scars appealing, and from here, he could see several more across the man's frame. Not so much a monster as he seemed before.

Jack looks down, reminding himself not to trust his lust. Reaper had done countless horrid things... He had been manipulative, even back in the day, he was smart. He had strategy and relied heavily on his plans... What's to say that this wasn't just another orchestrated deviation? As he attempts to read the book in his lap, his mind wanders, struggling, and eventually his eyes have lifted again, to greedily stare, trying to be discreet.

For a while, his staring goes unnoticed, until someone leans against his tree. A chuckle alerts him that she's there, and at once his eyes snap back down to the book in hand.

“See something you like, Jack?” Ana's voice is teasing and backed with a chuckle.

“What do you want, Ana?” He replies gruffly.

“Oh, don't be so dull, Jack. It isn't wrong, you know.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He utters, trying to seem oblivious. It's not working on the elder sniper, who only laughs and sinks down into the grass next to him, leaning against the same tree.

“Alright Jack. Play your game, if you will. You know just the same as I do.”

“About what?” Jack asks, looking over at Ana now. The man looks tired. Lines crease his forehead, and his hair isn't styled, left to hang forward in an attempt to hide his receding hairline. All the same, his eyes are bright and his jaw line is strong. He looks good, for his age, and his smile is still a dazzling disaster, as always, prone to making others swoon.

“About him.” Ana says, dipping her head at Gabriel, back to work with McCree. “If he was going to hurt anyone, he would have done it already. If he was still working with Talon... They would have been here. He went out the other night with Jesse... And returned. If he was going to escape, he would have. I think it's time.”

“Time...”

“It's something we're running out of, Jack. You and I aren't getting any younger... Neither is he.”

“No, but I don't think he's getting any older, either. Look at him, Ana... He hardly seems to have aged at all since then.”

“It's true... But that hardly matters now. Talon grows stronger again, even without him, and Overwatch needs us. We cannot hide here indefinitely. We have to get back to operations.” She pauses, and looks over at the old Soldier, chuckling. “You have been watching him, Jack. Tell me what you see.”

Jack sighs and looks down, closing his book and giving up with some sense of abandon. “The same as you, Ana. He seems... Normal. He seems himself. Jesse makes him happy, like he used to.”

“You used to make him happy too, Jack.”

“That was a long time ago, Ana. I'm not that man anymore.” But, her eyes roll some.

“I'm going to get tired of hearing that. You know, he thinks the same thing, of himself, and of you. You silly boys. You keep thinking that things have changed... But I've watched a lot of people for a long time, Jack. If there's anything I've learned, people don't change, at least, not that much. Give him a chance... And maybe yourself.”

“How do you know what he says? What he thinks?” Jack murmurs.

“Jesse and I are close, Jack. We always have been. Besides, I saw Angela's file on him... I'm... Convinced.”

“Convinced?” he echoes, looking back at Gabe, who remains oblivious. Jack can see the sweat on his back from here.

“It _is_ him, Jack. It's Gabriel. It's not Reaper-”

“Reaper and Gabriel are one in the same, Ana. I've told you this. Reaper's been around since before I met Gabriel it's just...”

“Now, you think Gabriel is gone and Reaper has taken over? My god. Look at him, Jack. Look, and open your eyes. There he is... Do you think you would look at him the way you do if it was _really_ Reaper?”

This gives Jack some pause and he sighs. “No.” He confesses.

“So you think it's him?”

“... No.. I mean. Yes. I know it's him Ana... It's just... In Blackwatch, it was him, too, wasn't it? All those things he did. Tortures, kidnapping, blackmail... God knows what else. All of that was done under his command. He agreed to it, ordered it, let it happen while he was _with_ me, Ana. While we were sleeping in the _same_ fucking bed. He'd kiss me nights after he'd choked someone to death, Ana. It wasn't just Reaper then. He was Gabriel then, and he never opened his mouth. He never _told_ me what was going on. He shut me out, Ana, and I don't understand. He wasn't _like_ that before... It wasn't who he was... He _loved_ me.” Jack's voice has become ragged and harsh, his eyebrows narrowing. Hurt has come into the soldier's voice. His eyes are primed on Gabriel, searching as if trying to find the answers.

Ana is quiet for a long moment before she reaches over and touches Jack's arm, bringing him out of his painful daydream. “Jack... Let Mercy help him. We can find the answers, in time. We can get to the bottom of this. If it really is Gabriel, wouldn't he want the same? Wouldn't you want to help him?”

“I do want to help him, Ana... But I don't know if we can. If it turns out that Reaper is just playing along so that he can betray us later... Wouldn't Gabriel want us to end this? Wouldn't Gabriel...” _Want to die?_ Jack's brows pop, as he remembers the night in the rain, where Reaper walked up to his gun and all but asked him to pull the trigger. How he looked like he might just jump right off the cliff. Ana seems to catch the look, the understanding as it dawns in Jack's eyes.

“What are you thinking?” She asks. Jack's eyes shift over to her and he offers a faint smile.

“I think it's time.” He agrees, and the two smile at each other.

 

“Gabriel?” Angela has emerged from her office, and is now standing not far from Gabriel and McCree, who, to no surprise at all, have gotten into a sword fight with the blunt ends of their gardening tools. She laughs upon seeing them. “Mm. This would explain why some of the work isn't getting done.” and the two straighten up. Gabriel snorts and looks over his shoulder.

“Haven't you a physical to be giving?” He utters.

“Yes, actually.” She muses back at him. “Yours. Come with me. I'm sure our resident cowboy can tend to the... uh... Potatoes alone, yes?”

The two men exchange glances, and finally, Gabe hands his rake off to Jesse, and leans to fetch his hoodie. They exchange brief goodbyes before Gabe and Angela walk off. As they do, she talks to him. “I have something for you. Something I want you to try. A medicine.”

“Oh?”

“It was developed for Alzheimer's... But I think that with a few modifications it can be used to help you. It might bring your memories back... It might not. But I think it's worth a shot, don't you?”

“May as well.” He muses. “It's why I'm here, isn't it?” he asks as they enter into her office. Angela chuckles and moves in, plucking up a bottle full of small green pills.

“These are why you're here. Also, if you would, disrobe. I'm going to be taking the last of your photographs today... And I'm going to be releasing the last of your blood. I've gathered everything that I can from it.”

“We still don't know how it was manipulated?” he asks, accepting the bottle of green pills from her. His black and red eyes scan over the label before landing back on her.

“No. I'm afraid that's a secret that only Talon can tell, Gabriel.”

“...So after the pictures, I'll get my blood back... And I can feed?”

“Yes, of course, Gabriel...”

“You're not going to make me wear the-”

“No. Of course not. Just roll your pants up, that will be enough. Stand just over there, as usual.”

 

The session doesn't take long. As always, she snaps photos around his face, eyes, teeth, extra arms, and the junctions where his skin turns from white to black. Claws and toes, too, to reveal how much they've changed. “The only question, I think, is going to be, where you're going to feed...” She starts as she finishes the last of the photos.

“Well actually... I think...Jesse knows of a place.”

“...Does he now? How interesting. Is it far?” she asks.

“North west side of the island, apparently. I've never been there.”

“Mmmhn. Okay. I'll ask Ana about getting your clearance.”

Not that Gabriel thought they'd need it. They surely didn't need it before, but he's not about to give Jesse away for kidnapping him a few nights prior. Gabe smiles, and unrolls his pants, then takes the pills with him. His hoodie is slipped on, and he thanks her, but afterwards, he heads back out into the dome to help Jesse, and to give him the good news, as it were. It isn't long before the release of his captive blood seeps back into him, he feels that minor absence like a dull headache wane slightly.

 

That night, Gabriel takes the first of the pills that Angela has given him. He knows it wont work immediately, but all the same, he's sweaty from the day's work, and has no interest in sleeping yet. Slipping out of his clothes, Gabe fills the tub in his bathroom, and slips in. The steam has become a welcome, old friend over the years, and now it soothes him, soaking heat into him and drifting up off of his frame. His body still aches with hunger, but he finds some relief in knowing that soon he'll be able to feed. At this point, he doesn't care how, as his body caves and aches, struggling to keep itself together. The arms, at this point, everyone knows about. Everyone's either heard about it from others, or they've seen glimpses of them while he works in the garden, especially earlier today, when he'd taken his shirt off. Thus far, no one's offered any complaints or disgust about them, and his confidence starts to return, little by little. Exhaling a deep sigh, the man sinks down into the tub enough to let the water drift up and over his face, coating him. Claw like fingers curl up and through his hair, sweeping it back and out of his face, he thinks it's time for another trim. Eyes drift shut and he allows himself a few moments rest.

 

Eventually, he stirs, and much to his relief, the water is still warm. It hasn't been more than a few minutes, and his body doesn't ache from laying there. He pushes himself up, the pain of his hunger slightly ebbed by the heat. The air cools his flesh as he steps out and snatches a towel and ties it around his waist. Running his hands back up through his hair, he leaves the bathroom.

Abruptly, he's staring at Jack Morrison.

The soldier is in his room, sitting on the end of his bed, staring at the bathroom door; or, he would have been, until Gabriel opened it. Now, Jack's staring at a very naked Gabriel in nothing but a towel, dripping wet, hair slicked back, stunned and silhouetted slightly by the bathroom lights behind him. For a moment the two stare at each other, and then, all at once they both look away.

“The hell are you doi-” Gabriel starts.

“Sorry, I knocked, thought you heard-”

“So you just let yourself in?” the wraith is blushing- _christ, is he_ , and Jack can see it. Jack's blushing as well, but slowly his eyes drag back over to Reaper- _Gabriel,_ he reminds himself.

“Sorry.” He utters. Gabe has moved over to his dresser and fishes out new boxers and pants, and Jack can't stop watching the way his muscle ripples beneath his skin, now and then, a wave of shadow rolls off of him. It would be like he was seeing Gabe nude for the first time, if it wasn't for that smoke, and those extra arms. _I wonder what he can do with those, Jack wonders?_ Suddenly his blush becomes furiously bright and he stares at the floor; Gabe catches it out of the corner of his eye, lets the towel drop away. It's only a seconds reveal, but a second is long enough; Jack gets his eyeful of powerful thighs and a very familiar set of hips. As old as he feels, his cock seems to immediately forget its age with the sudden attention it's paying. Gabe has already wraithed right into the fresh clothing, and ties the drawstring tight about his hips before fishing for a tank top. Gabe looks away, willing away his nerves and gulping hard.

“What are you doing here, Morrison?” He finally repeats, pulling on the tank top. His shadowed arms wraith right through it, hanging behind him, claws twitching. Jack clears his throat, trying to recompose himself.

“Ana said I should talk to you.” He lies, floundering for any excuse that didn't revolve around coming here of his own volition, but his eyes dart away and can't commit to the fib.

“You're a terrible liar, Jack. Always have been. Get on with it. You wouldn't have snuck into my room and waited by my bed for twenty minutes for no reason.”

“Thirty minutes.” Jack corrects.

“ _Fine. Thirty minutes. What. Do you want?”_ Reaper grows terse, embarrassed. He's going for something to drink; a simple soda, since he's out of alcohol.

“Look. We need to talk.” Jack finally says.

“We are talking.”

“I mean, about this. About you being here. About Overwatch.”

“You know why I'm here.” Gabriel interrupts, moving to sit at the table, since Jack is still occupying his bed.

“Yes; god. Shut up and let me speak, Reyes.” Jack half fumes. The two calm down for a moment, and Gabe's lips are shut. He's staring right at Jack now, but the old soldier struggles to meet his gaze. Finally, when he opens his mouth, his voice is gentler. Awkward, but softer all the same. “Listen. I'm... Sorry. I'm sorry about the way I've treated you, looked at you... Spoken to you. You've been here now almost a month and a half... I haven't really given you a fair shake... Reyes. And I'm sorry.” He looks up, briefly meeting Gabe's stare. He can feel the weight of Reyes staring into him, as if through him. For a moment, it reminds him of old times. But, the shade says nothing, waiting on every word Jack speaks. “I've been watching you, Reyes, and I think... I think maybe I begin to understand. I want to hope that I do. Maybe I'm not the same man that I used to be, and maybe... Neither are you. But you're here for help... You haven't hurt anyone while you've been here. You gave yourself up, put yourself at our mercy, put your life in our hands, let us starve you, observe you... Like an animal. I... I'm sorry for that.”

“Angela said it wasn't your call.” Gabriel offers quietly, his shadows drifting up over him so heavily that his face is mildly obscured, and all Jack can see is the red, glowing halos of light outlining Gabe's pupils.

“It wasn't. Not really... But Winston relies on me. He's new to this, and he wants help.”

“But you haven't answered the call. Not for Overwatch.”

“It's... Complicated... But I am the one who told them to be wary of you. To watch you like this. To treat you like this. I...” He struggles to find words, and Gabriel stops him, raising a hand.

“Morrison.” He says, and Jack looks over. “It's clear to me that you came here to say something, but trying to get from point A to point B is difficult for you. I know it must mean saying something you're not ready to give me. You don't trust me enough... And that's fine. I get it. I did a lot of things to deserve my treatment. Just... skip the in between. If you aren't ready to say it, then don't say it. Just tell me whatever it is that you came to tell me, without all the...” His hand gestures flippantly through the air as he speaks, “Ceremony.”

This makes things easy for Jack, because Gabriel's right. There's so much he has to say to explain how he feels, and why he acted the way he did... But even he hasn't quite come to terms with that yet, and he doesn't want to make himself out to be a fool. They're not close enough for the things he would have said, and so to spill the beans was the easiest way.

“Alright.” The elder Soldier replies, “I'm here to tell you I'm ready to move on. We're accepting you into Overwatch. In a few days, if you want, if you're ready, we'll be taking you to our permanent location.”

“Headquarters?” Gabe asks, his heart stilling some in his chest.

“Yeah... Once we're there, we'll resume operations, recruitment. All that Overwatch does.”

“All that Overwatch does... Why didn't you tell me about this operation, Morrison? These domes... The orphans...” Gabriel trails off, and Jack looks back at him. There was a sadness in his eyes.

“...I did, Gabe... You... You helped me find the children who lived here... You just don't remember.” _Gabe._ Hearing the old name on Jack's lips fills the wraith's heart with warmth, and for a moment, he's torn with emotion. Part of him wants to scream, to weep, to howl with rage... And yet... He smiles. He wants to hear it again. For a moment, he thinks it might be nice if Jack never called him Reaper again. They're both quiet then, but Jack sees the faint smile through the smoke over Gabe's features.

“Is that it, then? Is that what you came to say, Morrison?” Gabriel asks.

“...Yes. Do you think you'll come?”

 _Should he?_ The question falls in his mind like a small lead weight, anchoring him.

“Who will be going?”

“Everyone, probably. We don't stay here for very long periods. It's usually just a retreat between hubs... Sometimes we bring new recruits here, or we vacation here, or the scientists, including Winston, Angela and a few others, will come and go from the facility.”

“Do you _want_ me to go with you, Jack?” Gabriel asks, and Jack catches the sentiment in Gabe's voice, as it's impossible to ignore. It's a question that Jack isn't ready for. The Soldier stands, rising off the bed and striding towards the door.

“It isn't up to me. I'm just extending the invitation. Take it or leave it, Reyes.” His nervousness always makes him sound more aggressive, and it's a telling feature that gives away more than he realizes. Gabriel smirks, as he knows what it means.

 

_Hope._

 

“I'll go with you, Jack.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys, I'm so sorry this is late! Things came up on my vacation and I didnt have a chance to actually sit down and take care of it. MY BAD!


	16. Addicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delays guys, working on this while I'm not at home has been difficult, so i'm not able to get them out quite as on time as I hoped. D=
> 
> Triggers:  
> NSFW, heavy explicit smut.

~

 

It's a training day, and Gabriel's team has collected inside their usual training room. Gabriel's mind still lingers on the events from a few nights prior, and already, Bennison has spread word like wildfire. There had been more than a few looks, a few sneers cast their way, but, once Gabriel fixed them with a harsh glare, almost everyone seemed to back off, even some of the veterans. It didn't matter to anyone else beyond a few jokes here and there, but if Jack didn't stop blushing every time someone hinted at something, people were going to think they were _actually_ a thing. Gabriel was almost embarrassed _for_ Morrison, despite that he was involved... And god, was he ever involved. It had almost been the only thing he thought about every night since. Now, as they jogged around an indoor track made of red rubber, he couldn't help but glance at Jack, far ahead of everyone, leading the pack, sweat running down his back, dripping onto his calves. Another lap and they'd be done, but Gabriel had plans. Everyone's wearing black camo fatigue pants and their uniform black SEP t-shirts, now so built into them that almost everyone looked like they could use another size up.

When at last he called them to a halt, they stopped, and once again, he lead them over to the wrestling mats. “Alright then. Catch your breath, get a drink... Then we're gonna see if anyone's learned anything _new_ this week.” His chestnut eyes almost seem to glare at Morrison, and without a word, the blond knows he's going to be up. A few small laughs go up among the team, but no one says anything derogatory. Gabriel knows that if Jack somehow manages to lose this fight, everyone's going to think they were just... Wasting their time fooling around in his room. _No pressure, Jack._

Gabriel leans against a short wall beside the drinking fountains, his arms crossed as he sips from a recently filled bottle of water. Jack comes over, sipping his own.

“I hope you're fuckin' ready, boyscout.” Gabriel rumbles as the others get settled on the mats. “You want to crawl us out of this hole you got us in, you better remember what I taught you.”

“ _How is this my fault!?”_ Jack almost seethes, but he reaches up and wipes a stray drip from his lips and moves back to the mats. Gabriel joins them soon enough.

“Alright ladies. Morrison, Val, you're up.” There's a few small jeers, but Gabe snaps his eyes over to the offenders. “You want to be next?” He asks, and all at once they quiet down.

Val laughs as she moves to stand, smirking at the tough looking blond who stands across from her. “You ready for me this time?” She asks him in a taunting tone. Jack's features harden.

“Guess we'll find out, won't we?” he responds, dropping into a defensive position.

“Yeah, bet we will. I think everyone wants to know if you're fuckin' the Cap or not.” She snaps.

Then, without warning, it's started, and Val has launched herself at him, her hair flying, quick palms outward. She's aiming for vulnerable areas and joints, but so far, Jack's shutting her down, or deflecting the blows entirely. But, his defense opens just enough for her to get beneath them, and her elbow throws his hand out of the way, just in time for her to jam her palm right up against his throat. He staggers back, dazed for a moment, and Val wheels, spinning low and kicking out her foot, aiming for the back of his heels. She hits her mark, and Jack goes down, landing with a heavy thud that reverberates the mat and a forcing out a grunt that hardly sounds pleasant. Then, the small, agile fighter has thrown herself onto him, trying to get him pinned down as she had before. Gabriel inwardly winces, and he's afraid of what's coming next.

But, Jack does something then that he hadn't expected. Rather than trying to throw her off , he simply _attacks._ His hands become fists, and with as much strength as one arm has, he swings for her exposed rib-cage before she has a chance to pin his knee. There's the sound of a crack, and she wails, and suddenly, he's rolling, throwing her off of him. He hasn't moved this fast before, ever, as far as Gabriel can tell. Val is clearly just as surprised by the look on her face. Suddenly, Jack is on her, pinning her, a smile barely visible on his stern lips. _I'm going to enjoy this,_ his eyes seem to say. His knees pin her arms, and as much as she struggles, she's no where near strong enough to get Jack off of her. He swings, bringing his elbow around and against her temple, and she cries out.

“Got anythin' else to say, Val?” He asks gruffly, preparing for another swing.

“YIELD! I yield, Christ, Morrison. I didn't think I'd make you mad.” She yelps, and soon he's moving off of her. He extends his hand down to her, helping her up.

“Again.” Gabriel suddenly says, and the two snap their heads over at him, eyes wide.

“Sir, she yielded-”

“Shut up, Morrison. I said, again.” For a moment, the Team looked at one another, then to Gabe, expecting some kind of explanation. “I want to see that it isn't just luck.” He growls.

“Sir-” Morrison tries to argue. Typically, putting someone back in who had yielded was uncalled for, just as was questioning orders of a superior.

“Fine.” Gabriel murmurs, sliding away from his comfortable spot, arms unfolding from his chest. “Val, you're out. He'll fight me.”

At once, everyone tenses up. The last time Gabriel fought someone in a hand to hand, and he wasn't high on drugs, it had been brutal. It was probably one of the reasons Gabriel had been picked for Team Captain, along side his strategy.

Moreover, Jack knew that he couldn't beat Gabriel in a fight... But he knew, by the aggressive look in the dark man's eyes that this wasn't about whether or not he'd learned the move. No, this had become personal, because he'd questioned his superior... And now he was going to get his shit kicked in, in front of the entire team. It felt like the equivalent of an Alpha wolf putting its omega in its place. What's worse is that everyone else seemed to know that, too, by the way they looked. Gabriel enters the circle of yellow that lights up the center of the mat, illuminated from above, and in the light, Jack can still see the outline of his muscle as it presses against his fatigues.

“Come on then, Morrison. Give me your best.” Reyes growls, an aggressive edge to his tone that Jack would later come to know as the voice of Reaper. At the moment, it chokes his veins with ice. Still, he isn't going to look like a cheap fool in front of his Team. Does he really want to stand up to Gabe? There's a faint smirk on Gabe's lips, that little one that drives Jack mad. _Fuck._

Gabriel taunts him, arms extended. “Well?”

Jack lunges, throwing his weight in a way he knows will catch Gabriel by surprise, because it's worked twice before already. He's learned some of the Gabe's moves over the last few weeks, and for the most part he's able to block some of the swings. They're on the floor, grappling, heavy grunts falling out of them as they return blows. Gabriel catches him in the jaw, but it's a telling swing- Gabe's pulling his punches. Not much, but enough not to brutalize the blond's pretty face. Jack rolls, and suddenly he's straddling Gabriel, and it's enough to distract him, as Gabe reaches up, suddenly gripping his throat. _Oh no, please no, not there._ It was a weakness in more than one way, and if the idea of Gabriel shoving him around his quarters wasn't already in his head, it was certainly there now. The callused hand tightened, Gabe's teeth grate against each other, and Jack can see thoughts turning in that dark mind of his. As Jack flounders, the Mexican soldier flips him, and suddenly has him on his back- Jack almost expects a knee in his groin, but it doesn't happen. Knees land on his arms, and Jack suddenly knows he's fucked. This was exactly what Gabriel trained him for, and he's fucking it up miraculously, all because he's distracted... And Gabe knows he's distracted. It's the whole reason he arranged this. Now, it was going to be obvious to everyone who he was pining after.

“Yield to me, Morrison.” Gabriel growls, and a few murmurs spark through the crowd. “You want to question my orders? You better be able to put up a fight.”

Jack's teeth grate and his eyes growl steely and cold. He isn't giving in, so Gabriel shifts his weight, and suddenly Jack struggles to breathe, with almost all of the Team Captain's weight holding his chest down.

“Yield to me.” Gabriel hisses again, and their eyes are locked. “ _Goddamnit, Morrison.”_

Jack's teeth are still grated, but he knows that if he doesn't, Gabe will put him in the medbay for the night. Moreover, he's disturbed by how much this turns him on, the feel of Gabe's hand even now loosely pressed to his throat in a non-threatening way. Gabriel holds the pose for a long moment, eventually shifting so that his knees begin to pain the joints in Jack's elbows, and the blond begins to crack, crumbling beneath Gabe's weight and dominance.

“ _Y-Yield.”_ Jack finally cracks out, and seconds later, Gabriel has lifted off of him, and is jerking him to his feet. There's a murmur of relief from the other team mates, and it becomes clear that Jack's respect has been restored, as a few approach him to clap him slightly on the shoulder. Jack's eyes are trained on Gabriel though, who has paced away to retrieve his water bottle, and refill it at the fountain.

“Dismissed!” The man barks over his shoulder at them, and soon they're filing out, all except for Jack, who stands there. Ultimately, when he realizes that Gabe is content to stand there and drink his water at a distance, he approaches.

“... You alright, Sir?”

“I'm _fine_ , Jack.” Gabe says, the use of his name indicative that Gabe wasn't fine. Jack sighs.

“Gabe-”

“Goddamnit, Morrison. Why are you so hard headed? Why did you question me? This is _my_ team.” Gabe snaps, turning around to face Jack, now that everyone else has wandered out. “And I am your superior.” He growls, eyes boring into Jack's.

“Sir... Yes, Sir. I just-”

“No excuses, Jack.”

“Gabe...”

Gabriel suddenly shifts, reaching out with his unoccupied left hand and snatching back onto Jack's throat; Jack begins to understand that Gabriel has an attraction towards suffocation, for some reason. He's pushed back against the wall, and under Gabe's eyes he shrinks somewhat, forcing him to look up at him.

“You think I _wanted_ to do that, Jack? You think I wanted to humiliate you? No. But you forced my hand. They have to obey my commands the second I utter them. It will save their fucking lives, Morrison. In battle, there won't be _time_ to think, or question me like that. This is training, and I'm training them. You will _not_ get in the way of that. And this?” He looked down between them, dropping his hand away from Jack's throat “This distraction is not an excuse for you to disobey me... Do we understand each other?” Gabriel's voice was firm, sharp.

“Sir, Yes Sir.” Jack replies formally, sucking in a breath. “I'm sorry.” He utters quietly, understanding. He understood now. Gabriel was a forward thinking man, and he had a job to do. If his team died in battle, he'd feel the weight of it, right? That's why he was doing this... And as he had said, whatever was between them wasn't allowed, not that it had stopped them from the other night. The memory stirs inside of Jack, causing his eyes to go distant. Gabriel notices this, and snaps his fingers in front of the blond's eyes.

“You're on guard duty with me tonight. Go get rested up, and eat. See you later.” Gabe rebukes, then turns and heads out.

 

Then, the memory becomes... Familiar. This isn't the first time Gabriel's seen it, though he'd later be impressed at the quickness of Ziegler's medicine. They're on the catwalks, feet dangling off the edge, he's having a cigarette and they're talking about women. Then, it's raining, and the next thing he knows, Jack has kissed him. They're making out, touching, kissing. Their ranks have been thrown out the window, and Gabriel finally gives in to his feverish wants for the blond.

 

As they pant against each other and Gabriel's hand slips under Jack's shirt, the man's wrist watch starts blaring. The flashing green light causes the two men to wince slightly in the darkness, and they stop, looking down at it.

“Ah, Shit.” Jack rumbles, sighing and pulling his hands away from Gabriel, looking down, but Gabe's hand tightens on the front of Jack's fatigues and tugs him closer.

“Nnh, ignore it, Morrison.” He seems to command, but Jack stammers, panting as his head turns, trying to observe the blinking watch. Lips graze his neck then, and his composure crumbles. “G-Gabe... We can't someone else will patrol here... soon... You said this was a mistake.” He reminds, eyes pinching shut as teeth suddenly find his flesh, nipping him. A lust filled moan escapes the blond, and his hips roll forward, pressing against Gabe's, which have him pinned.

Lips trail up to Jack's ear, and he can feel the touch of the flesh against them. Reyes' voice has deepened, and his body posture has changed. He's grown more bold, yet, less rigid as he is during training, not as disciplined as he seems in mock missions.

“ _Ignore what I said.”_ The man whispers, inhaling along the side of Jack's neck, fingers slipping under his shirt again. A loud peel of thunder shocks them though, and finally Gabriel pulls away, seeming to come to his senses. Jack's panting, wet, and eager. He _needs_ this. Gabriel needs it too, but he realizes how deep they've suddenly gotten themselves. Jack's right in that someone will come by here soon, and they certainly couldn't be here when that happened. “Let's get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing his gloves, and they retrieve their items, and turn to go. The walk is awkward, quiet, and Jack is bursting at the seams with questions. His body is on fire with the feel of Gabriel on him, and beside him, the Team Captain looks... Casual almost, as if nothing's happened. Inside, Gabriel's mind rolls, his body aches, and he struggles not to just push Jack up against another wall. Maybe he could push the next patrol off the railing, to buy them more time? The amusing thought causes him to smile, and Jack sees it.

“What?” He asks.

“hm? Oh- Nothing.” Gabe replies, as they become once again drenched in rain, the overhang above them disappears, and soon they're rushing along the catwalk back indoors, rain drenched trails behind them.

“You're smiling.” Jack urges.

“Really? I wouldn't have known.” The comment is sarcastic and smooth, laid back and unexpectedly charming. Jack looks down, saying nothing, but his cheeks are hot. Their combat boots squeak along linoleum floors, disturbing the quiet of the middle of the night. Everyone's asleep except for other patrols and the random worker, but no one stops them or even seems to acknowledge them as they pass. The minutes tick by like seconds, and before Jack knows it, he's striding down the hall that his room is on. However, his boots are now the only ones echoing in the hall... Gabe has stopped. Jack looks back to the entry of the hallway, and there he stands, staring at Jack.

Gabriel can keep going, and head to his quarters... Or, he can leave Bennison to his devices, and join Jack instead. The dilemma rolls around in his mind as he fixes Jack with an almost predatory look. His hands twitch at his side, and he struggles to make a decision. The blond wets his lip, looking down, sliding his hand onto the lock, and letting himself in... The door swings open, and he steps through... Gabriel knows without question that if Jack leaves the door open, it's an invitation, and if he closes it, that he's done.

And the door stays open. Gabriel sucks in a breath through his nostrils and stalks forward. In the back of his mind, he's screaming. _What are you doing? This is ridiculous, stupid, and illegal. You should turn back, and put this all behind you. Nothing good can come of this._

But now he's standing in Jack's doorway, his drenched body cutting a striking silhouette in the light of the hallway. Jack's standing just beyond, his fatigue top and shirt are already off, and he's looking at Gabriel as he wipes his jaw with the removed shirt. There's no more teasing now, no question in their eyes, in their movements, they know what they want, and the only thing standing between them now is the door frame, a metaphorical boundary. Gabriel knows that, just as the open door is an invitation, this barrier is a commitment. If he crosses it now, he can't take it back, and they can't go to what they were before. If he crosses this line, they'll be stuck on the other side of it together.

“You just gonna fuckin' stand there, Reyes?” Jack has grown restless, and all sense of his formality has completely evaporated. In these moments, Gabe isn't his superior; he's Gabriel, and Jack is leaving the decision up to him.

The corner's of Gabriel's lips twist into faint curls, the smirk donned across his features welcoming and devious. He then steps forward, boots trodding wet footprints into the carpet, crushing it, effectively silenced now that there wasn't any obnoxious linoleum to give him away. His right hand reaches over and snatches the side of the door, shutting it behind him, all the while keeping his chestnut stare fastened upon the captivated Soldier. His hand reaches behind him, fastening on the lock and giving it a hard yank, tightening it and locking it in seconds. The man crosses the room towards Jack, shedding his gloves, and unbuttoning his fatigues, aggression and desire seeming to waft off of him. It's almost a tangible thing, and as Jack watches him approach, he finds himself longing to taste the man again, that faint hint of cigarette smoke and the last drink Gabe poured down his throat, the scent of the training room still on his skin.

The two collide seconds later, arms reaching out and latching onto one another's sides, tugging themselves close. Their chests touch, and soon after, their mouths. Jack's head tips, and his lips part just barely, enough to let Gabriel's tongue slip in to conquer his. The blonde moans, and his hands slip down Gabe's spine, feeling his muscle beneath the layers of wet fabric. He grows eager, and brings his hands back to the Captain's front, tightening about his fatigues, which have only barely come undone. As they kiss, Jack struggles to get it off. Soon, Gabriel takes the lead however, chuckling almost venomously into their kiss and fastening his hands onto Jack's shoulders. He walks the blonde back into the far wall, past the couch, and presses him against the cold, sterile stucco. It causes Jack to wince with its chill, and his body arcs away from it, curling forward, against the other and feeling every muscle trapped behind a shirt too wet to come off easily. His hands shove off the jacket of the fatigues, and worm their way beneath the bottom hem of the black shirt, flush against the dark man's skin.

Gabriel laughs. _“Calm down, Seventy-Six, or someone might think you're enjoying yourself.”_ His voice is like a toxic, addictive substance, polluting and infecting Jack instantly. He can't get enough of it, nor the feel of Gabe's breath on his lips. Needily, the blond leans forward, capturing him in another kiss before Gabe can dare to say anything else. Jack doesn't even bother with a reply, letting his body talk for him. Hands work feverishly higher, feeling over taught abdominal muscles, and higher still, until he can feel the swell of Gabe's pectoral beneath his palm.

“ _God...”_ Jack pants as their lips break away, catching their breath. Gabe's wearing the darkest, most handsome smile Jack has ever seen in his life.

“ _My, Morrison, you are eager, aren't you?”_ The voice is almost enough to bring Jack to his knees, and his cheeks burn, flushed with embarrassment.

“ _Shut up.”_ He barks back weakly- it isn't like this has happened before, or like anyone else has ever made him feel this way. In fact, Jack can't think of a single man he's ever wanted to do anything with who's even remotely made him feel as vulnerable as Gabriel somehow manages to. In his mind and in practice, Jack has always been in control; in every relationship... Until Gabriel, who seems to have effortlessly swept that power away from him and made it his own. What bothers Jack more is that he _wants_ Gabriel to have it. The idea of letting Gabe loose, like he's a crazed beast, runs rampantly through Jack's mind, doing hurdles and sending messages straight to his cock. Gabriel can see this, of course, and his smirk widens. He reaches down, helping Jack's wandering hand in its efforts, and fingers tighten about the bunched hem of his shirt where it catches on Jack's wrist, where his palm openly fondles Gabe's chest. The shirt is tugged up, and off, and suddenly, Gabriel is shirtless, in front of him, very clearly invading Jack's personal space. There's only a few inches between them at the widest points, and at others, their skin meets, flesh to flesh, pressed seductively against one another, a contrast of light and dark skin that Jack can't help but feel drawn to. He wants more of it, more of Gabe, and that muscle pressed all over him, trapping him, taking him-

 _Whoa._ The blond tries to slow himself, trying to put his thoughts back in perspective, to remind himself that anything like _that_ was a long ways off... Surely, Gabe wasn't going to let this go that far.

But.

Then why is Gabriel backing up, his hand sliding around to the back of Jack's neck, tugging him forward, after him, to the small couch they once shared? The back of his knees find the couch, and Jack is pulled down onto him, over him, and Jack's forced to straddle him or lose his balance.

“Gabe- what are we-”

“Shut up, Morrison. You talk too much, you know that? You seem to like running your mouth...” The Captain's eyes have roamed down, openly staring at Jack's cut, perfect physique. He's pale and his hair is fine, everything grows in the right direction, all except for that one little cowlick spike on the top of his head, which sticks straight up. Despite that Jack is just as made of muscle as he is, his skin feels softer somehow, or perhaps Gabriel's hands are just so rough that everything feels softer by comparison to them. Chestnut eyes stare back up at Jack, those blue sapphires pouring down into him. “I think you should show me what what else your mouth can do.” Though it isn't phrased like an order, Jack takes it as one. His eyes pop, brows lofting.

“I- I...”

“What's the matter, Jack? Suddenly skittish?” Gabe groans, needing more than just Jack's hands on him. They roam now almost like they're searching for something, exploring over his exposed torso, tracing over the contours, and exciting a nipple with the side of a thumb.

“I've never done that before...” Jack explains, knowing well what it is that Gabriel is asking of him, but his hands don't stop, moving steadily downward, grooming over the muscle until he reaches the heavy metal belt buckle Gabe's wearing, teasing the hem of his pants with his fingertips.

“I don't care.” The man beneath him utters, his head pressing against the arm of the couch. “Just keep your teeth in check and let your tongue and lips do the rest... Maybe your throat if you're feeling so bo- oh.. _god..”_ Gabe's words trail off as one of Jack's hands suddenly palm his thick erection through the fabric of his trousers. Gabe's teeth clench slightly and he sucks in a breath between them, brows knitting. Jack sees the reaction and his lips pull into a small smile, a brow raised, impressed with himself. His hands roughly unbuckle the belt, and soon, he thumbs the button and the zipper follows. Gabriel feels his body tense up all the while, growing steadily more taut as Jack works. His knee bends, and Jack slowly slides down, drawing open the pants, palm pressing over the bulge all the while. “You're sure you haven't done this before...?” Gabriel breathes, looking down the length of his own chest and abdomen, down to where Jack has just tugged down his pants enough to reveal the tip of his aching cock. It's swollen with need and visibly throbs. Jack's perfect face looks back up at him.

“ _I'm sure.”_ The blond replies, his rough voice becoming seductive, almost powerful. Gabe's hands tighten on the sofa beneath him, sliding down and curling around the edges of the cushion beneath him. His pants and boxers are tugged down just enough to reveal all of him. Jack's hands lightly tease into the wiry, thin line of groomed hair that runs from Gabriel's navel down to the base of his manhood, but his eyes are fastened on the size of him, the thickness, the way it pulses against his palm when he finally touches it. Reyes pushes himself up so that his elbows prop him up, and he can watch Jack more easily, and it rewards the blonde with the view of his taut, flexed torso, even if Gabe doesn't realize it. Jack stares, then slowly, looks down, his breath exhaling over the thick shaft in his hand. Gabriel shudders in response.

Soon, lips trace over the tip of him, unsure, but longing. Blue eyes flick up at him, questioning, looking for some kind of approval, but the dark man says nothing, though his eyes are unable to look away. Seeing Jack there, down between his thighs, lips primed over the head of his aching member his hands slowly taking up residence around either of Gabriel's thighs... Somehow, Reaper wondered how he could have _ever_ lost the memory to begin with. The man's chest stilled with anticipation, then sucked in with a gasp as the blond suddenly descended on him. Heat enveloped his flesh, the warmth of Jack's tongue teased along the underside of his cock, his lips massaging around it, and through the pleasure, he could hear Jack moan into him, the vibration of the faint sound trembling into him. A groan started to slip out of him, but Gabriel stifled it, biting down a bit hard on his lower lip. His brows knit together, and as if hungrily, his eyes remained fixated upon Jack as though he was prey... Something to consume, something he _needed._

The slickness of the blond's mouth smoothed over his flesh, and made each drop a little easier, and a little faster. On his thighs, Jack's hands had tightened, kneading over the muscle, and tugging down slightly on the black fabric of the fatigues, jostling the heavy belt somewhat as he drew closer. This new angle gave Jack the opportunity to go further. _If you're feeling so bold._ That would have been the line Gabriel was about to utter, if his moan hadn't interrupted him. Jack was never the kind of man to back down from a challenge, and so far, the other seemed to be relishing in every little movement Jack made. Mind his teeth, he reminded himself, letting his lips slide further than before, until eventually he felt the man's thick tip lightly touch against the back of his throat, a foreign but pleasant feeling, though he struggled not to let it trip his gag reflex. Gabriel's instantaneous moan was enough to coax him to do it more, and as he rose his head up, the back of head was suddenly greeted by Gabe's right palm. _Fuck._

Jack's own arousal went ignored, for the time being, as there was exactly nothing Gabe could have done to solve that problem at this point in time. The hand on the back of his head grew a little tighter, causing Jack to look back up at the man attached to it. Gabriel was smiling, that dark, addictive thing.

“Oh, don't stop now, Jackie, you've just gotten started...” He growls dominantly, giving the blond's head a little push. Jack smirked back, against the flesh of Gabriel's tip, even uttering a chuckle.

“...“ _Jackie?””_ He echoed, amused by the pet name.

“ _Fucking hell, Morrison. I'm not a patient man.”_ Gabriel rumbled, giving his head another small urge, fingernails teasing against Jack's scalp. Jack finally relented, opening his mouth once more and dropping back down, this time a good bit more confident, and he took Gabe's cock all the way down, pinching his brows as he swallowed hard against the tip of him. He felt the man's thighs tighten up beneath his hands and his body shudder. Gabriel's head fell back and he uttered a breathy curse into the room. Jack's hands slipped further around those thick thighs and pulled himself closer and he picked up his pace. Before long, he found himself moaning into the actions with each small sound the Team Captain made, finding pleasure in getting him off. There was something about how taboo it was that excited him, urging him on and making him more eager. Gabriel's hand began to tighten into his hair, until he was gripping it tightly, and all but forcing Jack to continue, though the blond showed no sign of stopping.

“ _F-Fuck. Fuck! Jack- A... God... Are you sure you haven't- ah- done this... before?”_ Gabriel pants between his moans, his hand trembling on the back of Jack's bobbing skull. The man doesn't stop, not even to reply, simply redoubling his efforts and driving on. Gabe's body openly advertises that the man's getting close. It didn't feel like it had been going on that long, but with as much time as they'd all spent away from sex, and as long as this fire beneath Reyes and Morrison had been building, it was no big surprise to Jack that it would be going this quickly... Or perhaps time was simply passing faster by how thoroughly he enjoyed this.

Gabriel spotted Jack's response before Jack even realized he was doing it: the moan he uttered into every drop, and the way his outer leg draped off of the couch, onto the floor, combat boot giving him traction as his hips ground his swollen, hidden member against the cushions of the couch. Ravenously, Jack sought to soothe the ache in his groin, to offer some sort of stimulation where there was none. It made the dark man chuckle into the room, but even this didn't still Jack, who continued on. Gabe's hand began to shake on the back of his head, and his free hand gripped so tightly into the cushion beneath him that he was sure it might rip. That hardly mattered now, though, as his mind remained securely transfixed on their lustful act. Pleasure surged through him from the source with each movement Jack made, from the smooth stroking of his lips to the tickling pressure of his tongue sliding against him, and the occasional squeeze of the back of Jack's throat against the tip of his member, which had begun to leak small traces of precum.

This detail didn't escape Jack, who slipped up to the tip now and again just to slide his tongue up against the slit, collecting what he'd coaxed out only to moan and go back down for more. Watching Jack lose himself to this was almost enough to get Gabriel off by itself, but sensations swarmed over his form; pleasure from the act, and the feel of Jack's strong, rough hands tightly fastened around his legs, the gentle shift of fine blonde hair against his callused hand... All of it surmounted, causing Gabriel to buck up into the other's mouth, head falling back and pressing against the arm of the sofa. His groans were louder, but he stifled them as best he could. His cock pushed just a little too deep then as he thrust upward, his abdomen rolling and hand pressing down, Jack gulped hard and choked, the sound alerting Gabe just enough to let go. Surfacing from it to catch his breath, Jack looked up at Gabe as if he might say something, but the man cut him off before he could even start.

 _“Don't you fucking dare stop, Morrison!”_ He seethed in a bestial tone, demanding and fierce.

Jack took the words like a command and quickly dropped back onto it, his hands shifting up to Gabe's hip bones and holding him still, using his strength to keep those hips still while he worked. Sweat had begun to collect on Jack's brow, and along his exposed torso. Gabriel was sweating too, only slightly from what Jack could see, but for entirely different reasons. Gabriel's breaths became growls and grew almost primal in their nature, no longer words, but feverish, rampant huffs of need. His hand had fled Jack's hair if only to keep himself from hurting the man and instead flew up, latching onto the armrest upon which his head laid, gripping it with all his strength. Without any word of warning, it was happening, and his hips pushed up despite Jack's down-pressing hands. Jack knew without question what as expected of him, and despite the urge to gag, he forced his lips down until they pressed flat against the base, Gabe's thick length as far as it could go down his throat. Blue eyes pinched shut, bracing himself, and seconds later, he felt the tell-tale jerk, the heavy throb that gave his climax away. A heat flooded down his throat and by proxy, the scent of it as well. Without question, he swallowed almost immediately, trying to minimize any chance of a mess, and partially afraid that Gabriel might be offended if he _didn't._

Dark-toned man huffed, exhausted beneath him, his chest expanding with each breath. Slowly, his hands loosened their holds and relaxed some. Only then did his head come back around and chestnut eyes fasten onto Jack, who was just now getting off of the other. He was still excited and eager, and made it known by clawing his way up Gabriel's front. Their chests met as the blond slid upwards, smirking confidently at him.

“One hell of a first kiss.” Jack rumbles, and it makes Gabriel laugh and turned his head aside.

“I.. ah... Didn't expect that out of you. Didn't expect you to swallow either.” Gabe's hand pushes up at Jack, pushing him back so that he can sit up, or trying, but Jack doesn't move, looking down at the hand pressed to his pectoral.

“... What am I suppose to do with this, Gabe?”

“Come on, let me up. I've got to sleep-”

“ _You've got to be fucking kidding me!”_ Jack almost snarls, but the reasoning is obvious. There's a tent in his pants big enough to house a small family of ferrets, and Gabe's going to just _leave!?_

 _“Wha- Oh. Come on Jack. You know I couldn't stay.”_ Gabe's pushed himself out from under Jack now, who looks a mix between dismayed and outraged. In Gabriel's eyes, he's adorable, which makes the Mexican smile. He's retrieved his shirt from the floor and begins sliding it on. Jack steals the last few glances of Gabe's chest as he curses at him.

“You're a royal fuckin' asshole, Reyes.”

“Well,” Gabe quips back quickly, “Reyes _does_ mean _King,_ Morrison. You started this with your _stupid_ kiss.”

“You didn't have to walk in here-” Jack rebukes, pushing himself up from the couch. He's closing the distance as Gabriel's buttoning up his fatigue jacket.

“No, I didn't. You invited me. I didn't say how long I was going to stay-” But, his words are cut off. Jack has grabbed him by his jacket and pushed him back against the nearest wall, and forced another greedy, eager kiss to Gabe's lips. The other chuckles into it, the taste of himself on Jack's lips excites him, but he's not going to let himself be coaxed to stay. His hands press into Jack's torso, putting distance between them after their kiss. “It's early. We have to be awake in a few hours. Not tonight, Jack.”

“But Gabe-”

“ _I said “No,” Morrison.”_ His tone has become firmer, making it clear that it's not up for debate. Jack sees the sharpness in Gabe's piercing eyes and backs up, albeit slowly, and lets his hands fall. He seems to sigh, head craning to the side. Defeated.

“ _Sir, Yes Sir. Goodnight, Reyes.”_

Gabe smirks and then turns to go, snatching his remaining items from the room and departing without another word. Jack is left in a blind, lustful rage, and ends up soothing himself as much as he's able in the shower later, still left with the flavor of Gabe on his tongue and a need in his mind.

 

~

 

Reaper's awake this time when the memory comes to him. It's never happened quite like this before, as everything in his mind, in that present moment is wiped clean in favor of the vision as it consumes him. When he comes back to himself, he's sitting upright in a chair, breathing hard, his eyes feel dry and he's staring at the holo-screen on his wall with its maturated forest scene, propped upright in his chair. Slowly, the man comes back to himself, shaking his head with a cough and clearing his throat. He notices then the aching bulge that tents the sleeping trousers he's in, and the goosebumps on his flesh, along with the faint, damp feel of sweat across his bare shoulders. Reaching up, his claws trace against his scalp as fingertips massage his temples, and eventually he combs up into the height of his short undercut, scratching, and smoothing a thumb over his scruffy jaw.

Needing a shave and a bath, he rises and moves away, finding that his body aches as he does. The medicine seems to be working, and he realizes that for once, one of his memories is filled in and full. Slowly, things from SEP begin to come into focus. Will the memories continue to come in order, he wonders?

Over the next hour, he bathes and cleans up, preparing for yet another day in the gardens, the night before coming into his mind... Jack, here, in his bedroom, falling over his own words with things he wanted to say, and yet, wasn't ready to. It was so much easier to dismiss him than let him struggle like so... But all the same, Jack had seen him damn near naked, and Gabe had seen the look on his face if only briefly. Was he shocked and embarrassed at what Gabriel had become? Horrified? Aroused? It was hard to tell, as the blonde, now white-haired man had gotten quite good at hiding his true emotions beneath a rough exterior. In the next day or so, he'd be flying away with Jack and everyone else somewhere... The new HQ, a new home... As one of them. He let the idea of it sink into his mind like the warmth of the water around him.

Steam rolled up over his features and eventually off of him when he left the bathroom, towel draped around him, and he set himself to some clothing and checked the clock.10:26 AM. While Reyes usually detested being awake in the morning, he'd gotten used to it while being on Overwatch's schedule. He was late to his duties all the same, yet, no one had come to remind him or check on him.

At least, not until now.

The comm device into his room beeped twice and a familiar voice came over it. “Ey, Reyes? You lazy bastard, y'awake?” Jesse sounded like he was in a good mood, despite the choice of words, Gabe could recognize it as harmless banter. He paces across the room to the door and touches the button that'll let Jesse in without him needing to use a key.

“Hey, there he is.” Jesse says as he strides in, glancing over Gabriel for just a moment with his four arms, pale skin and half-dressed state. Gabe's wearing pants, a pair of black denim jeans and a heavy belt that suits him. Soon, he's going for a tanktop which suits the outline of his muscles just as well. McCree offers nothing more than an appraising glance before flicking his eyes up to Gabe's face. “You're lookin' dead as ever. You hungry?”

“ _Morning, Jesse._ ” Reaper rasps in reply, black smoke oozing off of him as he passes to the wall to fetch his hoodie. “Hungry?” He repeats, voice softening as he glances back at the gunslinger. Jesse has abandoned his serape for a brown leather coat and a blue button up top. There's no armor in sight, but he still wears his hat, his blue jeans with chaps (for some reason) and the spurred boots and that typical _bamf_ buckle he always has on. Also his hat, which hides a mass of only barely combed devil-may-care hair.

“Yeah. Seems we're flying out in the morning. You're gonna come with me and feed.”

“Taking me back to that place? The underground?” Gabriel asks, and Jesse nods.

“Sure am. Why not?”

“Nnh. No reason. Just us?” The wraith asks, and Jesse half shrugs.

“Eh. More or less.”

“What do you mean?”

“We'll ride there alone. Morrison insisted he follow along behind... Y'know. _Make sure I stay safe and all that bullshit daddy crap.”_ And his words make Gabriel laugh unexpectedly.

“Oh, Yes. _Of course._ Wouldn't want to accidentally _eat you, or whatever it is that I do,_ and incidentally drive us off a cliff.” Gabe teases in retort, snorting as he pulls up the hood on his grey jacket. Jesse reaches behind him as he laughs and unhooks a pair of sunglasses from his jean pocket and hands them out to Gabriel.

“Here. Thought you might want these.” Jesse says, and Gabe reaches out to take them, smoothing the gunmetal frames over in his hand, claws tapping them for a moment before he slides them on.

“They look expensive. You spend money on these?” He asks, effortlessly impressed with the way they look on his face- all hard edges and style, just like the rest of him.

“Well I didn' steal 'em if that's what you mean.” Jesse rebukes, turning towards the door. They fall quiet and head out, and they're in the same motorized car as before, content in each other's quiet, headed down the road they had been a few days before. The weather is overcast and threatens rain, the steam their light wheels give off leave a faint trail in their path. In a rear-view mirror, Gabriel can occasionally glimpse another car behind them, far back. _Jack._

Jesse's in the seat beside him, almost dosing, his mind is elsewhere, eyes open, arms crossed, the car on autopilot. Gabe sighs and slouches in his seat.

“Where have you been, Jesse?”

“What'dya mean boss?” The gunslinger asks after a moment.

“You said that after the explosion, you left Overwatch. You went off the grid. Disappeared. I don't recall hearing anything about you while I was in Talon... You must have kept low. Where did you go? What did you do?”

“Oh. Hell.” McCree groans. “Well I went back home. As you said. Disappeared... I took up work where I could get it... Did some good things... Some bad things too, I guess. Got myself looked after. Tangled with a dragon once or twice. Reckon it'll be the death of me someday.” The man mused, smirking faintly. Gabe's eyes are fastened on him, but perplexed with curiosity.

“... Is someone hunting you, Jesse?” Gabriel asks, and McCree suddenly snaps his head over at the rogue, eyes popping.

“Uh.. hah... No.” He laughs nervously. “Don't you worry 'bout him, boss.”

“ _Him?”_

“I said quit, god. You'n Jack are still stubborn fucks.” The cowboy snorts, looking away, out the window. Gabe takes the hint and lets the matter drop, turning his eyes aside, and yet, he still finds himself vaguely worried, despite that he has almost no memories of McCree. Had Jack also asked him about all this? Gabe had to wonder.

They remained quiet for the remainder of the ride, and at some point he was pretty sure that McCree passed out, if the snort that sounded out of him as he jolted awake was any indication.

“Oh hey, we're almost there.” He murmurs, reaching up to wipe his eyes slightly before glancing out through the windshield. Gabe's been watching all the while, not just the passing hills and foliage, but the ocean horizon, and the dozing man next to him, trying to pry the memories out of the cracks in his mind where he was sure they were hiding. Gabe says nothing, but instead follows Jesse's eyes. There's what appears to be a tunnel up ahead, which Reyes didn't anticipate. Where the road curves right around a bend, this tunnel branches off in a Y, to the left, and dips steeply down into the earth, then, beneath the very surface of the waves. Gabe's eyes widen and his hands press onto the dash, glancing sideways at Jesse, who's as casual as can be. He looks sideways, at Gabe, who's lips have formed a _very_ thin line, down-curved, unimpressed... Vaguely horrified. Jesse erupts into laughter. “OH YEAH, Chris'sakes, I forgot you ain't ever- HAH. Well this'll be a doozy for you won't it. You never did like closed spaces or somethin'... Least now you got a reason. Well don't you worry, all the sub-aqua tunnels are regulated real well and inspected. It ain't comin' down for a long wh-”

“ _Sub-aqua?”_ Gabe gasps in minor awe, and terror, though its easy to know what the term means, he doesn't have to ask, but Jesse replies anyway.

“Oh yeah. A bunch of countries have got international highways like this now. Took a few notes out of nasa's moon-book I'd guess. Anyway, you still gotta have passports and such to go between countries, pay fines and shit but... uh. Well. There's some in-between communities, like rest stops or fuel stations. Some countries have even started making residences under there to try an'... preserve natural land monuments up above. Forests and all that. That's all right by me, way I see it, humans can grow anywhere. Trees can't.”

“Never pegged you for a tree-hugger, McCree.” Gabe almost groans, watching as their vehicle tilts to the road and suddenly heads downward, over the cliff and into the sea. The tunnel is made of glass at first, and allows them to watch the waves crash up around it, and the coral that's been parted for the highway, a thousand species of everything in every direction; Gabriel is astounded, and leans against the glass window of the car. Jesse smirks at him.

“You're one to talk. Look'it you. I learned all this shit from you, Reyes. You, Ana and Jack... You told me once that we only got one earth. Ana told me that someone was goin't be real mad if we fucked it up.”

“And what did Jack say?” Gabe asked without thinking. Jesse laughed.

“He told me to pick my shit up and wipe my nose, keep my head down. All the shit without the flowery spin on it you guys used to put on it. I think you just didn't want me living in a sty, but you didn't want to tell me how to live my life. At least... Not'n have me know that's what you were doin'. You were, but you were smoother about it. Manipulative like, but not in a bad way. Ana was the nurturin' one. Jack was just kind of a hard ass, at least, when you weren't around.”

“Can you tell me about that?” Gabe asks, glancing over finally as the glass becomes some kind of metal as they go underground entirely. There's nothing else to see now outside the car besides cyan and tangerine neon lights that line the highway, flashing on their faces as they pass beneath them. It isn't terribly bright, so Gabriel reaches up, removing his sunglasses, and in the darkness, Jesse can see the red rings around Gabe's pupils like wicked halos, bright and somewhat frightening. Still, he reminds himself who the man is, and manages to suppress his natural fear.

“You and Jack?” Jesse sighs, looking down. “I don't know as that's my place. Figure it's better you learn that on your own, isn't it? I can't rightly tell you what it was. Just what it looked like.”

“Then tell me what it looked like.” Gabe insists. Jesse looks back at him, quiet for a moment, but he can see longing in Gabe's stare.

“That medicine Angela gave you is workin' innit. You still care about him, don't you?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Reaper snapped at once, out of line, defensive, trying to hide the obvious. Gabriel looks away, eyes down. “I don't know. It's complicated.” And though it wasn't a laughing matter, Jesse laughs all the same, a small, short chuckle.

“Yeah. That about sums it up. Complicated. Answer me. That medicine working?”

“Yes.” Gabe growls shortly, shrugging away slightly and looking out the window despite that there's nothing to see besides passing lights and metal wall. McCree is good at acting dumb, keeping his head down and minding his own business, but he's a smart man. He knows Reyes almost as well as Jack does, and he can tell the man's troubled.

His voice drops a few octaves, growing quiet and soft.

“Look... I know you're hurtin'. I can't imagine what it must be like... Seein' everything that happened, everything you done in hindsight, not knowin' who you are, or who you even were, going through what you are, trying to find an answer. I know you didn't like what Angela's had to do, and what she found out about your blood. I know you dun' much care for the way Jack's been talkin' to ya, or about ya. You want this mystery solved; we all do... But you gotta give it time. You gotta trust that sooner or later this is gonna come to somethin' good.-”

“And if it _doesn't?”_ Reaper's voice is bitter and cold.

“It _will._ You're here. That's a start. You're where you belong, with your friends, your family... You wanna know what I think it looked like?” He pauses here, but Gabriel doesn't reply, he's looking away all the same, so Jesse continues.

“It looked like you guys were in love. Not just some, happy fling, not just best friends, but somethin' more. Soul mates, like. When you were with him, you were different. You cared, and for the first time in your life, you were scared of somethin'. Scared of losin' him, or dyin' alone. I ain't sure which. When you were with him, he was your sunshine, your little... spark of happiness. You'd been through so much, but then Jack walked into your life, and made you remember why you wanted to live. And to him... Well t'be honest, I never knew him all that well, but I knew he had a tough life before the military. You gave him somethin', Reyes. You gave him purpose. He loved you more'n any of us. He went to the ends of the earth for you... When he lost you, when he thought you betrayed us... He changed. It broke him in more ways than I care to tell... I don't know as he'll ever be the same...” The man paused again, as Gabriel had turned to look at him. They were quiet for a moment before Jesse added one last sentiment.

“Now I ain't sayin' it's over and done. He's different now, but not gone, Reyes. Don't give up on him yet.”

“Jack has _already_ given up on me.” Gabriel reminded quickly, his voice tinged with hurt. “Why _shouldn't_ I move on?”

“I'm just sayin' not to exclude him. He's hurtin' bad... Move on to where? To _who?_ You find someone else?” Jesse asks.

For a moment, Gabriel flinches, shaking his head.

“No. Not really.” Widow flashes through his mind, the last image of her as they stared at each other as the balcony crumbled out from beneath her. _A stupid mistake. “I just meant that if..._ IF there was a chance, if someone else came along... Why shouldn't I give them the chance where Jack's given up his?”

“ _Has he?”_ McCree asks at once, causing Gabe's thoughts to still. For a moment, the black smoke that drifts off of him seems to still too.

“What do you mean?” Gabe asks suddenly, and Jesse laughs, looking away and reaching into his pocket. He withdraws a pack of cigars and rolls down the window, lighting one up.

“I just think that the old man does an awful lot of starin' for somenone who's 'given up'... You didn't see him, I take it?”

Gabriel huffs and looks away, no reply. If he did see it, he isn't saying so.

“The other day, when you'n me were havin' our banter out in the second dome... Man was watchin' you like a hawk.”

“Probably just keeping an eye to make sure I didn't hurt you-”

“Oh no. HAH. Naw. Not the way _he_ was starin'.” Jesse utters, he's grinning now, smoke pluming past his lips as he exhaled. Gabriel actually flushes, and abruptly has to look away in his embarrassment. Jesse looks over, and laughs, unable to help himself. His smile is wide, pearly whites flashing in the neon lights somewhat. “Christ, look'it you.”

“ _Shut up, Jesse.”_ Reaper growls.

“Look, _look,_ Okay.” The cowboy wheezes, still laughing. “I'm _just sayin'_ not to exclude the possibility, yeah? Reckon in time you boys could work things out... Jus' gonna take a while.” He's still smiling as he pinches the cigar back between his lips.

Overhead, a large sign comes into view, suspended from the ceiling. It's lit up with a variety of yellow and white lights, giving some fanfare to it, despite that it's obviously been sprayed over by junkers countless times.

 

_Owellton welcomes you._

Scrawled along both sides of the tunnel now, gaudy graffiti greets the travelers in shades of bright orange, yellow and neon green. Every scrawl was a different color, a different style, made by different hands.

 _Welcome to hell. Owellton, Outcast's Paradise. Home Away From Home. The Lawless Land Between._ It seems that everyone's scrawled something of their own thoughts upon the tunnel walls, dictating to visitors what they felt suited it best. Some of the paint looked worn, as if someone had tried to scrub it off and failed. Other signs looked fresher. The road branches off to the right with a tiny, bullet-marked sign that reads _Owellton rest stop,_ and Gabriel cannot help but to think that out of every sentiment here, this little, pock marked, worn sign with bullet holes is the most honest one of them all.

 

Of course Jesse would know of this place.

 

“Well hell, would ya look at that. We're here.” Jesse seems... excited.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Like the story? Feel free to spread word of it to other R76 fans via Tumblr! You can always find my most recent updates (say if something is delayed, late or comes up) on my tumblr here!:
> 
> http://trishields.tumblr.com/tagged/trifiction
> 
> As always, fanart is welcomed and encouraged, and tune in next week for the next installment! Updates are every sunday, or as close to there as I can get. =)


	17. Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Heavy, explicit gore, heavy violence.

The scent of gasoline and gunpowder, substances that are rarely used in today's society, but they seem commonplace here, permeating the car as it turns down the barely-lit road to the rest stop, which promised to be less restful than expected. Black and red eyes were glued upon the scrawling across the walls as they drove by, the car automatically slowing as it adjusted to the new atmosphere of the place. Lighting here was shoddy at best. Strobes of broken yellow and red lights felt like jesters making a mockery of civilized society as they dangled overhead and stood crooked on lamp posts. The street opened into a wide, somewhat tall cavern, all patched over with sturdy metal, big enough for three story tall buildings, but no more. The road grew somewhat rough, potholed with some kind of use, hinting that _actual tires_ had trod this ground more than a few times since its opening who knew how long ago.

All the same, the over all grunge and sense of abandon the place carried made it feel like it had been around, and would be around, forever. They passed a small fueling station, both for gas and other conventional fairs, mini-mart attached, not all that unlike some of the ones Gabriel had seen out on Route 66 when he was a boy, feeling archaic. There were people... everywhere. Bodies strode across streets like they weren't in a hurry. Some stood, posed, propositioned for attention, others fought and dealt whatever substances they had hidden up their sleeves. Some were just here to have fun, as was clear by the way people _danced_ along, high or drunk, or maybe just obsessed with the feel of this place. Jesse reached over to the console and pushed a button, causing the windows to roll down. Warm air flooded in, making Gabe feel humid and sticky at once, but he could tell there was no avoiding it here. Music permeated the car as well, all from different locations, heavy, loud and offensive. This place truly was a den of reckless abandon. Gabe thought that if he ever got the chance to write on those tunnel walls, that was what his message would say. They passed other buildings, apartment complexes, small living areas, this place no bigger than three city blocks, but it had the feel of a grand city in its depths. He felt himself slipping away with wonder, and knew that lesser willed people would have turned back in fear.

“How did you _find_ this place?” Gabriel asks as Jesse takes the car off autopilot and starts driving it around himself. He seems to already know where he's going, and the smell of his cigar is lost in the pungent aroma that drifts through the air. Now and then, the scent of saltwater drifts in, making it very clear that they're still some levels deep beneath the very floor of the ocean.

“Oh, you know... Y'find a lot of strange shit when you're lookin' to disappear.”

“Is it safe to be here?” Gabe asks, looking back to Jesse, who suddenly laughs.

“Heh, hell naw. Not by a long shot I reckon.” But here they were anyway. Jesse steers them up to what looks to be a bar, a place that looks like it half burnt down once, and was rebuilt with raw metal. The other half, miraculously untouched by flames, was made of wood and concrete. A sign dangled from an old, rusting marquee that read, _Slicker Liquor_. The car pulled up into a dirt parking lot and stilled, the light wheels causing dust to stir all around them, dirtying up Gabe's combat boots as he gets out and stands. Jesse's standing soon too, and glances across the top of the car at Gabe. He smirks and tips his hat, the cigar switching sides on his mouth. “Well, come on then.” And he heads inside, his spurs clicking along the way, heels tapping on both wood and metal as they approach the door, weaving through a small crowd of people collected around it. Even the door frame is half-metal, half wood, as if a poster of advertisement for the place. Gabe is quick to discover by the bar's patrons that many of them, too, are half metal. Some are human, and some are full omnic, but the greater majority of everyone here is a junker of some type, augmented parts, cybernetic pieces attached to their frames made out of the most random, ancient forms of technology. As much as he knows he should feel cautious, Reaper cannot help but feel like he fits in here. They approach the bar, whose wooden counter glows bright green and magenta from fluorescent lights overhead. Jesse strikes up a conversation with the bartender, and though Gabe's still in wonder over the place, he eavesdrops.

“'Ello. Reckon we can find a pass down into the club?”

“You got credits?” An omnic across the way has a stern look on his features, somehow, his red and yellow eyes flicking over Jesse judgmentally.

“You know I do-”

“I know you like to gamble it away, McCree. Swear to god if you walk out without paying your tab again-”

“I ain't leavin' without payin' it, fuck. Just let us in, Redo.” The cowboy growls. Redo, the tender it would seem, cants his metal head to the side with a few audible clicks of his synthetic spine. His shoulders shrug just slightly, and a he seems to sneer, clicking metal teeth behind an augmented jaw; Gabriel is reminded of a shark.

“Suit yourself, Jesse. You know what comes for you if you screw me again.”

“Yea-yea, I know.” Jesse turns away, pausing only briefly to regard Gabriel.

“Oh... uh. You want somethin'? A drink maybe?”

Gabriel snorts, rolling his eyes and turning with Jesse. “Never was fond of drinking gasoline.” To which Jesse laughs. Redo has moved to the wall behind the bar and slipped a hand under a counter, hitting some kind of switch that allows a long sliding door to the left of the bar to slide out of the way with an audible whirring, grinding noise. They descend three flights of spiraling stairs almost straight down, and as the ground below becomes the ceiling overhead, noise assaults his senses.

Reaper quickly discovers that the room beyond isn't really the sort of club he had expected. There's music, and it's loud enough that he can hear it, but there's yelling, the roar of a crowd so loud that all lyrics are lost in the raucous. _It's a fight club._ A few lines from the now-ancient movie run through Gabriel's mind.

_The first rule of fight club is..._

His lips peel into a wide smile. There's the heavy smell of blood and sweat, the clang of metal and boots as people clap and stomp and bang on furniture and walls with whatever they've got in their hands. In the center of the ring is an old boxing ring, square with chain 'ropes', and it's clear that it was made just for this place. Around the ring, swathed in shadows there are tables, round and square, some are just upended crates with stools pulled up to them. People are standing on them and sitting in seats as they stare into the ring. The ring itself is lit up with bright yellow and red-white lights from the ceiling high overhead. There's red streamers overhead made of cloth, and they sway in the current of a fan that ventilates air into and out of the chamber, keeping it breathable, but a far cry from fresh. Everyone here except for the two new arrivals have become nose-blind to the odor, lost in the euphoria of the fights.

“You go on and make yourself comfortable at a seat somewhere. Don't buy nothin' from no one if you don't know what it is... Specially not with my tab. I've gotta have a talk with someone. I'll be back.” Jesse says, and Gabe's eyes narrow at him.

“ _Okay, dad.”_ He chides, then watches the gunslinger disappear into the crowd. His shades have slipped back on, his hood pulled higher, overshadowing most of his face as he glances around for a seat. Eventually, he finds a place. It's across the room. There's a set of wooden stairs that lead up to a sort of balcony, giving a decent view of the arena. An omnic couple have just left their seats and Gabe weaves his way through the crowd quickly enough to snag the spot. He leans back in the wooden chair, notched and creaking with age, and props his combat boots up on the seat opposite to him so that Jesse can sit there when he returns. The table before him is circular and splinters where the furnish has rubbed off or been chipped away. There's the wet condensation rings of two recently-removed drinks, gone now with their owners, and a tea napkin that partially soaks up one of them. Gabe's hand extends, snatching the item and moving it to clean the two spots, but as he does, the ring finally catches his attention when a roar of pain radiates out of it.

A hulking man, half metal, drops to the floor, bleeding from his human ear, several teeth missing. Someone who looks as though they could be just _any_ old patron jumps into the ring and counts him down, pounding the hallow sounding floor beside his head like a drum, but the man doesn't rise. Howls of both pleasure and disappointment raise from the mass of people, and soon Gabriel can see the exchange of coin and paper as bets are exchanged. Everyone's gambling. The victor? A comparatively small, lanky redhead with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. He can barely make her out as she sets one hand on a chain and flings herself over, fingers coated in brass knuckles, a spiked, red vest on over a striped grey and black tanktop, somewhat baggy pants hang off her hips, tall, punky boots are slightly unlaced up to mid-shin. There's the stick of some kind of candy sticking out of her mouth, and her right hand slips back to rub at the back of her neck, mildly obscuring a tattoo of some kind. From here, he can't make it out before she's gone from view.

Someone grabs a microphone and hops into the ring as the brute from before is dragged out. The announcer doesn't seem to care that he's stepping in blood, and his muddy boots leave prints in the ring. His hair is bleached white and seems to be smoking somehow at its tips, spiked up in random directions, his eyes as crazy as his smile is wide. His voice is obnoxious, accented, but does a good job of distracting from the clicking noises his peg leg and mechanical arm make as he ambles around. The junker might have been tall once, if he wasn't crippled now, Gabe thinks. Still, Gabriel hardly listens, as soon, another fight starts. It steals his attention for a time, but after twenty minutes, McCree finally returns.

“See somethin' you like?” He mused, smirking as he nudges Gabe's feet out of the seat, which he then takes.

“Mmnh. How does this place... Exist?” Gabriel asks, eyes turning back to McCree. “How has no one shut this down?”

“Who _would_ , Reyes? We're in the undersea 'tween N'Zealand an' Fiji. Even if anyone cared about this place, there ain't rightly anythin' they can do about it. You heard, maybe even seen the state Australia's in. Zealand ain't in much better shape. They can't afford to shut this place down, much less clean it up. This place brings visitors... Sorta an... Illegal tourist trap.” He snorts, sipping from a drink he's procured in the last twenty minutes. “Anyway. How're you feelin'?”

Gabriel stares at him levelly.

“...Fine. _Why?_ ” he asks, eyeing the drink curiously. Jesse hardly seems to notice.

“You're up soon.”

“Wh-”

“I got you a spot.” He cants his head at the arena. Gabriel's eyes pop suddenly with understanding. He reaches up and removes the shades.

“ _No. What?! You can't be serious._ ”

“Oh, I am. This here's the only way you're going to feed, Reyes. At least for a while.”

“ _JESSE._ ” Gabriel snarls. “ _Someone will SEE me and KNOW me. How the hell am I-”_

“You think that matters to anyone here?” Jesse interrupts. Gabriel's on his feet now, leaning across the table, into Jesse's face, seething. “You should be thankin' me. Ain't no one going to bother you here. You need to feed, and I got you a no-holds fight...”

“ _No holds-?_ ”

“Christ sakes, Reyes. You ever seen that old classic _Gladiator?_ ”

 _Oh shit._ Gabriel's head snaps towards the ring just as another fighter goes down. As they're cleaning up, The announcer jumps back into the ring, howling with glee. Among the incessant yammering, Gabriel discerns a specific sentiment.

“ _LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, we've got a real show for y'tonight- rumor has it there's a_ _ **demon**_ _in our midst, here for a real GOOD time. You wanna see a foigh'? You wanna see a real_ _ **bloody doozy?**_ _Well have WE got the fight for ya! No. Holds. Barred... Uh. You know. Mostly. No guns, no flyin' things, roight? Roight. Alright-”_

Gabriel feels the blood drain from his face, and his claws twitch at his side. Jesse's staring at him, smiling faintly. “You're up, Reaper.” He murmurs.

“ _Goddamn you, Jesse.”_ Reaper seethes pure displeasure. He wasn't a spectacle! He was... Well he was a monster. The announcer's going on.

“ _Luckily- well we got some real unlucky blokes who pissed off the wrong people, roight? These boys are ready to fight for their life. You know the rules down here. They win? They go free. They lose? They die. That's how this works. Any of ya watch the media? Eh? Yeah? Seen the tele? Talon's got some real bad folks 'ey don't they? Lookie here folks....”_ The announcer leans in as if he's got a secret to tell, motioning people close, he grins maniacally.

Then, he screams into the mic.

“ _WE GOT THE REAPER!”_

The crowd is equal parts elated and terrified, and many people back away from the ring at once, heads turn, and eyes scan, the noise they make is horrendously loud. Gabriel has no intention of letting these people see him in his down-dressed state, and releases a howl of rage that reverberates off of the very walls of the club, making many people duck. All at once, his boots are replaced with something heavier, metal, leather wraps up over his form as his normal clothing drops in a pile at his feet, and within a second, he's standing there, hood up, mask on, smoke swallowing his form whole. He stalks away from Jesse, leaving the gunslinger to fold up his mundane attire as he paces slowly down the wood stairs he came up to get here. The crowd, having caught the tail end location of his howl, now gawks at him as he prowls forward. His claws click against each other, tightening, and everyone's gone quiet. There aren't a pair of eyes in the room that aren't on him now, and he hates the weight of them. He can hear murmurs go up among the crowd, people wondering if it's actually him, or just a man in some kind of elaborate costume. Reaper, growing impatient with them, growls and explodes into a cloud of smoke that makes them all scream, lurching through them, over them, and coalescing in a crouch on the floor in the middle of the ring. Red and yellow light bathes down over him, and his head turns, scanning among the lot. Now, no one's talking. There's no question that he is who he seems.

From across the room, Gabriel can make out the figure of someone leaning against a wooden support beam, visor on his face, hood hiding his head, but from here, the white strands of hair are apparent. _Jack._ The Soldier does nothing to intervene, but, his pulse rifle is leaned against the beam at his side, Gabe has to wonder who he brought it for- them? Or for him?

“Well, WELL!” The announcer is ten parts excited, and exactly no parts fear. “ _Big_ fan, mate, _BIG_ fan. Look here, roight? No guns, yanno? Eh? That alright?”

Reaper's head snaps to him, hunger fueling him. There's no more time for debate. He needs this.

“ _You got it.”_ He growls, which causes the announcer's smile to crack into a wide grin. Giddily, he dances out of the ring, yowling something about letting the games begin.

 

Gabriel's never quite been in a fight like this before. Sure, he's fought multiple people at once... with guns. But, it was never to kill for sport. Though this seemed to be some kind of fucked up justice system, there was no doubt in his mind that this was purely for entertainment. And these guys? Whoever it was he was meant to fight? They sure seemed to think that they had a fighting chance to win, if they agreed to the 'sentence' as it were. Did they know then, he wondered, that they'd be facing _him?_ Moreover, he had never performed in front of a crowd before...

_But Gabriel, how is this different from any of the other kills we've done before? People were watching you then. They can watch you again here. Now. Heal us._

Gabriel's mindset changed and shifted to something much more familiar. This was a job, and he was starving. He needed this, and whatever these people had done to land themselves here? Perhaps they deserved it. Perhaps everyone deserved to die. None of them were innocent anymore. That was his thought, anyway. Ziegler wouldn't approve, but she wasn't here.

Before he knew it, six men had been shoved into the ring seemingly from no where. Two of them already wore visible signs of fear. Ex-deadlock by their tattoos and their general attire. Traitors? While Gabriel had never officially been part of a gang, even he could understand the importance of loyalty. _That seems hypocritical, doesn't it? Aren't we the reason Overwatch fell?_ Rage flooded Reaper's veins. Before he could dwell on it, one of the six had launched themselves at him.

His body took flight, evaporating and shifting, a whirl of smoke and vague shadows. From within the black torrent, claws slash, leaving men with sudden, horrendous wounds that seem to just appear on them, throwing them back into the chains, or onto the floor. They begin to scream, but it's almost drowned out by the cheering of the crowd around them, who at every attempt, make sure that none of them are escaping him. Reaper takes form in sparing moments, crippling them and corralling them into the center of the ring, now made a cage to them. Pants of exertion go up among them and they shout at each other, throwing their backs up against one another. Two of them draw hidden knives, and before Reaper can think to react, one of them has lunged out, plunging the item into his left shoulder. He hisses out a loud roar of pain, which causes everyone some pause. Even he staggers back some, looking at it. For a moment, the six bleeding men in the ring gain confidence, staring and daring to peek out from their safe circle. The room has become so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Jack has stepped slightly away from the support beam he's leaning against, but stills himself. Jesse's palms have pressed flat to the table across the room, watching as he stands, cigar falling from his lips.

The Reaper's head has leveled its sights on the blade, embedded into his flesh at the shoulder, puncturing the leather. Then, in a moment that paralyzes the 'prisoners' with fear, his attention snaps back to them. Suddenly, his right hand has snapped up and latched onto the hilt of the blade and yanked it free, and he lunges forward. The blade is brought up so quickly that a flash of bright red and yellow light is almost all that anyone can see before suddenly the offending wielder gives out a cry backed with a guttural gurgle. His hand latches around his throat, but it's pouring blood. His eyes are wide with panic and he falls forward onto his knees, spilling crimson disaster all over the floor of the arena. Reaper, now in a vicious rage, snatches his hair with a claw, closing the distance as everyone else in the ring with them backs away in fear. With a sickening wrench, Reaper turns the head farther than it's meant to go, and a crack echoes off of the club walls. The man falls limply to the ground beneath him. Black, abyssal pits of Reaper's mask settle on the men, now frantic. As his body feeds around him, he can feel his body strengthen... And with it, comes a bloodlust he's long familiar with.

Entering a rage induced feeding frenzy, Reaper abandons the blade to the floor beside and throws himself into the fray, smoke pluming off of him in every direction, his white mask and the occasional glimpse of red eyes mark themselves in the darkness. Jack is reminded of his time as Reaper's prisoner, and he can tell that Gabriel's lost control... Yet, Jack does nothing to stop him, and Jesse remains perplexed across the room, fingernails cutting nervous scratches into the table's surface. The crowd has erupted back into elated noise, though many of them have taken several large steps away from the ring's perimeter. One of Reaper's knees comes up, burying itself into the gut of one of them men, making him double over, right into Reaper's waiting talons.

Within seconds, that man's jaw has been completely ripped free and thrown across the arena, scattering onto the floor as it slides off the ring's mat. People scatter away from it, and the victim's body falls, gurgling and flailing before falling unconscious, dying seconds later. A laugh begins to rumble out of the ebon tornado that Reaper has become, a wicked, hideous thing... Loud, haunting, and ever so familiar to Jack. Despite its malevolent nature, it tugs at the Soldier's heart strings with its familiarity. Reaper heals further, which causes his shadows to thicken, but pull closer to his body. Bit by bit, his body heals, even as the men are still dying. It's a minor detail that Reaper misses, too taken aback by what's happening to notice the way his body seems to respond just to the _act._ The men seem weakened just by the way he comes after them. There's a snap of bone, and then another, as one of the men's arms tear off entirely. Then, the show reaches a new height, unexpectedly to everyone there. Reaper's arm becomes a ghostly appendage, surging forward down into the throat of one of the men, reaching, digging as if searching for something. The man struggles to breath and get away, but he can't. Reaper suddenly finds what he's looking for, and his arm suddenly solidifies. Jaw breaks, along with neck, which splits like an overstuffed sleeve, arm buried up to the bicep down within it. Reaper jerks free, pulling with it, his prize. In the force of it, the man is decapitated, and Reaper's left holding his heart, whose last few beats are put on display for the crowd. More than a few shrieks go up among them, and people scatter away from the arena. The announcer does his best to calm them, urging them that everything's fine, and only a few die-hard, desensitized patrons linger to watch the rest of the fight. With three men down, the other three are child's play by comparison. They flee to the edges of the ring, trying to get away, but each time, Reaper catches them, leaving them with equally disastrous injuries, from broken spines and dislocated lower-halves, all of this serving to prove how lethal Reaper is, even without his guns. Jack has surged forward and is now standing at the edge of the arena. He's screaming at Reaper who can barely hear him. His ears throb with the sound of his heartbeat, the scent of blood swarming his nostrils. His eyes are set on the people who now openly flee up the spiral stairs to escape. Reaper is fully healed, but his _want_ extends to them.

“ _REAPER! THAT'S ENOUGH!”_ Jack's rough voice echoes in his mind somewhere, but he can barely register it, his body stilled, focused on the fleeing patrons. Standing at the edge of the ring, his bloodied hand drapes itself onto the top chain, as if he might launch himself over. McCree is moving now too, yelling, lunging across the distance, but none of his words fall on Reaper's ears.

Instead, it's Jack who finally distracts him.

“GABRIEL!” Jack howls, for a moment, throwing aside that someone might hear, or learn who Reaper was, or rather, _is._ Amidst some screams the name is lost to all except Gabriel himself, whose head suddenly snaps towards Jack. Jack's standing beneath him, outside of the ring, visor off, staring up at Reaper. His blue eyes clash with everything else in the room, full of concern. Afraid, not for the people, but for Gabe himself. This strikes Reaper so much that his bloodlust stills and his stare remains transfixed upon the Soldier. There it stays, until Jesse comes crashing into Soldier's side.

“Christ almighty-” the cowboy pants, glancing at Jack and Gabriel for a long moment before he straightens up. “Uh... Reckon you two need a minute? I'm gonna see if I can't do some... uh. Damage control.” He glances at Reaper once more just to make sure he's in control before pacing away. Already, the two Soldiers could hear the yelling going on between club officials and Jesse himself. His argument? The guys they wanted dead were dead now, and no one else was hurt. Moreover, tonight's show might be a shock at first, but people would come flooding in to see more shows shortly. This place would be on the map even more, he said. Gabriel and Jack tuned it out, and ultimately Jack turned away, putting his visor back on and stalking towards the table that Gabriel and Jesse had originally been sitting at.

Gabriel watches him go, then turns to follow, ghosting along behind, his eyes landing on the massacre that he's made. It's dreadful, but he's seen it all before, so it doesn't phase him, at least not more than the usual disappointment that rolls through him. All the same, his body feels like it's on fire, excited, healthy, invigorated. He follows Jack at last, and Jack leans to pluck up the pile of clothing that Gabe's left there, and hands it out to Gabriel. Gabe takes it and moves away. The entire club is entirely empty now, except for them two, and the distant echo of Jesse's voice echoing down the stairs. Gabriel turns away from Jack, and wraiths into his original clothing, his mask set on the table. “What are you doing here, Jack?” Gabriel asks as he folds the pile of bloodied, black clothing and armor.

“My job.” Jack replies dully, but minutes later, Gabriel is standing in front of him, almost too close for comfort, which makes Jack straighten up. Gabe places one hand on the pillar against which Jack leans, and the elder Soldier's eyes snap onto it, then back at Gabe. The pale white skin is gone, replaced with darker, caramel tones that Jack is intimately familiar with. The scars have faded, all except for the ones on his cheeks and brow, as always. Hair has regained its natural, oak brown luster and health. Alluring, piercing chestnut eyes stare back at him. With it, a commanding timbre has returned to his voice. For a moment, Jack is taken aback, and suffers down a few urges to latch onto the man right then and there for a brief reminder of what they used to be.

“No. Jack, what are you doing here?” Gabriel presses. “ _I saw you.”_ That look in his eyes, right as he was standing at the edge of the ring. Jack tenses up marginally, and their eyes have locked. The Soldier looks down and away, his jaw tightening.

“ _It's not like that-”_

“Like hell it isn't.” Gabriel balks. “You don't think I remember?”

“You don't remember everything.” Jack's not wrong, but Gabe's head tilts, and he leans closer.

“ _I remember enough. You've been looking at me. I've seen it.”_

Jack's eyes snap back onto Gabe's, holding his stare. He can see the want in Gabe's eyes, even if Gabriel doesn't realize that's what it is. His lips form a thin line. “ _You're confused. That was a long time ago. I'm not that man anymore, and neither are you. I'm watching you because I have no choice.”_ The white haired man growled, but he seemed to lose a little of his conviction. His head tipped to the massacre nearby. “If I hadn't been here, do you think Jesse could have stopped you?”

Gabriel is stung. It reminds him that times have changed... Maybe he's barking up the wrong tree. Maybe he _is_ confused. He has feelings now for someone he remembers only partially. Does he _even_ have feelings, or is he just riding the high from his feeding? _Did Jack actually stop him?_

“Maybe not.” Gabriel growls, answering all of his internal questions as well as Jack's open one. Stomach tightening, he turns away, leaving Jack in a black mist as he moves away to the table. Jack watches his back, feeling immediately bad for his words. Why? Why did he care? Everything he'd said was true. After all of Gabriel's memories came back, he might not feel the same at all... Especially not if it turned out that Gabriel actually betrayed them.

 

Gabriel meets up again with Jesse minutes later, and they return to their car. As they ascend, the place is a ghost town. Even the sassy barkeep has abandoned his post somewhere. The street is quiet, and allows them time to get in their cars more or less unseen. Jack remains behind a few minutes longer, mulling over the mess, over everything he's just seen... His mind screams with one unanswered question.

_Is it safe to bring Gabriel back?_

He was not entirely in control of Reaper. That much was obvious now. In truth, Gabriel had had outbursts like this before, back in Overwatch, or his time in Blackwatch, really, but Jack had seen the start of it even in SEP. Would Gabriel be able to control it now, now that he had these bizarre shadow abilities and a history with Talon, and a not-too-distant vendetta against Overwatch? _Was_ it safe to bring him back? What if Reaper turned on them every time he needed to feed, or, what if he decided that Talon still had his best interests after all this?

Gabriel wasn't here to betray them. Jack could see that now... But then, Gabriel hadn't been there to betray them back in the day, either... Yet, it had still happened, hadn't it?

 _I want him to be on our side,_ Jack thought suddenly, as he wandered back to his own vehicle. Jesse and Gabriel were long gone by now. _But I don't know if he can. Is Gabriel still in there? Can he be trusted? When we need him to help us most, will he turn his back on us? Maybe... Maybe we can help him with this. A month... He needs more time. Just watch him, closely._

For Jack, the ride home was agonizingly quiet and heavy with thought, especially as he recalled that small, wanting look in Gabriel's eyes... It was familiar, and he missed it.

For Jesse and Gabe, the ride home was slightly less dramatic.

“Well fuck em then!” Jesse was saying. “The place'll fuckin' be fine. I mean. Just give it two weeks, Gabe, I'm tellin' ya. That place will have more business than they've ever fuckin' seen before. Even if it did make a mess. It wasn't like I told 'em to put those guys in the ring with ya.”

“You _knew_ they'd put _someone_ in there with me. It's why you asked them, didn't you?”

“Well, yeah! I fuckin' knew. Someone with the Junker's or Deadlock or Los Muertos has always got an execution list. They like to exercise their own form of justice without informing the authorities. There's a few more clubs like this one, but Owellton's one of the top ones. Cops don't go there. Authorities don't go there of any kind. S'like they know better. Outlaw town. Guess that's why I liked it... All the same, didn't figure you were gonna rip those boys in half-”

“ _I didn't mean to...”_ Gabriel growls, looking away, hands tightening into fists.

“ _I know you didn'_... All the same, they've said I can't come back for a year... Bet I could haggle that down to a couple months... Once they've cleaned it all up. They'll be thankin' me then... You feel better, anyway?” Jesse glances over.

Gabriel's got his hood down, and he's relaxed in his seat. Jesse can see the drastic recovery of his body, and mildly stares. “ _Christ it's like you ain't aged a day.”_ He murmurs. Gabriel glances over, smiling faintly. It makes Jesse smile, because it's been forever since he's seen it.

“Benefit of being a dead man, I guess.” Gabriel replies, _shrugging_ slightly.

“So.. So what then? This is you when you're... good?” the cowboy asks, perplexed.

“More or less.” The man replies. Smoke still drifts off of his skin here and there, reminding everyone that he's still _changed,_ but it's a detail that Jesse looks over.

“And the uh... The arms?”

“ _God, why are you all so obsessed with my arms?_ ” Reaper rasps.

“Hey now- not everyone's got four arms. I was polite'n didn't ask before. You ain't got em now.”

“Don't be foolish. I have them... I'm just... controlling them. Four arms don't fit in clothing, or armor... So I don't form them.”

“So you're sayin' if you took your shirt off you could-”

“I'm _not_ doing that, Jesse.”

“ _But I-”_

 _“NO, JESSE.”_ Gabriel barks, glaring at him. Jesse seems to understand, but groans and leans back in his seat, arms crossing as he sucks on a cigar, looking almost like a pouting child..

“ _Fine.”_ He seems butt-hurt, but Gabe doesn't cave. The rest of the ride home is quiet and uneventful, rain finally consuming the island, and when he gets back to his room, it's consumed by painstakingly cleaning his gear of all the blood and gore that's smeared on it.

  
  


Gabriel sleeps like he's actually dead. There's no dreams, no nightmares, nothing to disturb him. The calm, comforting darkness of deep sleep carries him. He's not proud of the cost it exacted to heal him up; and in hindsight, perhaps he never was, but at least as Reaper it was easier to ignore... Easier to justify. That, he needed this, and if he didn't, he would die. He was merely surviving, no different than animals did. And perhaps Reaper had a point. That was true, wasn't it? That, if he didn't feed, he became slowly more and more the monster the public knew him as. Was it his fault, that he hadn't known he could feed from the recently deceased? Could he truly be blamed for everything he had done? Surely, there was a good portion of it which he could, and now, more than ever before, Gabriel knew that some day he'd have to atone for what he'd done as Reaper. That, someday, he would have to let justice take him. And he intended to let that happen. He wasn't some heartless wretch as was rumored... He was Gabriel Reyes, once a strong commander, a patriot, a loved man with a family, and a human. He could say he was none of those now, except for the very first. Even now, after everything he'd done, he was Gabriel Reyes, and that is who he would be when he died, he'd decided. Whether or not he was Reyes was no longer in question. Too many of his memories had come back, and the man was regaining some of his sense of identity. With it came his confusing feelings for Jack... A man who saw justice on its way. Gabriel had decided after he'd walked away from Jack that night to let it go. Jack was right, and even then... Even if he wasn't?

There was no future with Gabriel anymore.

Gabriel was damned no matter the outcome of this little adventure.

And Jack?...

… Jack had grown old without him. Gabriel had taken everything from him.

Now, only one more line of questions lingered in Gabriel's mind about Jack Morrison. After everything he'd done, after everything they'd been together, and accomplished, even though he couldn't remember all of it, did Gabriel _deserve_ any more of Jack's time and attention? Wasn't it enough to just let the old Soldier live out the rest of his life in relative peace, knowing he had brought Reaper down, and possibly Talon with it? Wouldn't it be worthwhile, instead of killing himself off or letting himself starve to death, to help Overwatch destroy Talon, the ones who made him into this thing, and then let karma do what it would with him? Wasn't _that_ more noble, and less selfish? Couldn't he just let Jack keep the memories they had shared together, and pretend that the Reyes he knew was truly dead and gone?

… The answer was undeniably yes. Gabriel had decided it was what he would do, and did his best to shove wanting thoughts of the Soldier out of his mind.

By the time he woke in the morning, he was ready to move on to the next mission, or as ready as he was _going_ to be. Take down Talon. Find the answers to what happened to him. Bring them to justice. It was early when the comm device in his room buzzed to life.

“Wake up, Reyes. We lift off the pad in fifteen minutes. Be late, and be stuck here another two months.” Ana's wake up calls could have been sweeter, but she was a sharp, to-the-point soldier, her sniping eye always where it needed to be the most: on the mission. Gabriel was already awake, dressed, freshly showered, hood up, shades on. A black leather duffle bag had been stuffed to the brim with all of his gear, along with the new clothing he'd gotten though them. As usual, his guns were allowed to evaporate and drift in the air around him, or pulled into his very skin. Double arms were invisible, for now, as were most of his shadows, kept locked into his person, making him seem almost normal.

When he joins them on the landing pad, it's still dark out, and wind buffets waves from below against the cliffs, causing drifts of salt and mist to collide against their forehead and cheeks. Gabriel is glad for the hood, and for the shades, despite that it's easily four in the morning. Jesse isn't awake, at least not really. He looks like a caterpillar wrapped up in his serape as he hunches against the wind, leaning against the side of the jet. Jack is talking to Angela, his voice calm, but loud, to carry over the hum of the aircraft. They're talking normally, as if it's just another day.

“Genji will join us at the base after his mission. Reinhardt is coming on a different ship. I have some recon to do-”

“Another private mission, Jack?” Angela chides.

“Something like that.” He utters with a smile, glancing aside as a shadow catches his eye. It's Ana, coming up just behind Gabriel, and they load into the plane without many more words. Gabriel nudges Jesse awake, and makes his way to a seat in the corner of the front of the jet, his back pressed to the wall just behind the cockpit. Jesse shuffles into the seat next to him, bumping into him, murmuring something about, 'this god forsaken hour,' and how 'inhumane' it was. Gabriel smirked faintly beneath his hood, the light from an overhead indicator giving the gesture away briefly. Still, he doesn't remove his shades, and instead, leans his head back, letting his eyes drift shut. He's awake, but the shut eye helps all the same. Everyone else has shuffled in, buckled up and gotten themselves comfortable. Jack and Ana sit together as expected, quietly hashing out details of missions and otherwise, without disturbing the calm, quiet atmosphere of the jet.

It's not an especially comfortable jet, little more than a dropship, really, identical to the one Reaper had been picked up in. There's chairs along the front side of the hold, which he sits in, and more along either side, where Ana, Jack and Angela have all seated themselves. A man Gabriel doesn't know pilots, and eventually, someone wanders in and offers them all piping hot coffee and a small bag of saltine crackers. Hardly a stewardess, and hardly a breakfast, but Jesse takes the coffee eagerly, and Gabriel follows suit, if only to warm his hands, which are bare, and chilled. Still, flavors always tasted better when he was healed, so he allows himself to indulge in the drink. After half an hour, all the conversations have died out, and they have settled into their individual thoughts. Jesse assumes cleaning his peacekeeper, and Jack checks, then rechecks the mechanics on his pulse rifle. Gabriel does nothing more than cup his hands around the hot mug of java. While the men all seem content to have their hands moving or fidgeting, the two women among them content themselves with a book, in Angela's case, and in Ana's, a silent messaging service via her phone, likely to her daughter, who Gabriel only remembers the notion of. Thus far, her face and her name are lost to him.

It's two hours later when Gabriel can't stand the silence anymore. When he speaks, it stirs everyone in the cabin to look up at him, taken aback by the way he sounds almost... normal, after feeding. Almost. The typical rasp, the faint echo in it can still be heard.

“When is someone going to tell me where the hell we're going?”

All of them seem to look at one another before Jack finally replies.

“It's going to be a few hours longer. We're going to Italy.” And as he says the word, their eyes pin upon one another, though the words are unspoken. Italy, so close to Gibraltar, so close to Switzerland... Both places where such relevant events had happened. Yet, it made sense, for them to be close to Winston and Angela's old lab. It all but confirmed that Angela's lab had been rebuilt.

“The Dolomites, Gabriel... The mountains. They are breathtaking.” Angela says, trying to ease the tensions she can feel rising.

“The Odle Mountains, to be specific.” Ana chimes in. “The base is below ground, and the natural rock of the mountains offers us _significant_ protection from outside sources... Discovery, as it were.”

“Hiding in plain sight...” Gabriel groans, rolling his eyes. “Who would build a headquarters in the middle of a tourist trap...”

“Don't be jealous Talon didn't think of it first, Gabe.” Ana says, smirking.

“I won't lie. It's smart.” he rebukes crossing his arms. “You're sure Talon won't find us there?”

“Talon hasn't found us in five years, Gabriel... Nor has any official government.”

“...And the UN, when PETRAS was repealed?”

“They only know that we're operating from Europe. They don't know where. They've agreed to stay out of it, so long as we're still serving the worlds best interests... They have some demands.”

“Demands?” he asks.

“Talon. They want them eliminated. We have three years. If we fail to progress by then, they will shut us down again. This is our chance to redeem ourselves.”

“And I?” Gabriel questions. “Was I-”

“No.” Jack interrupts. “You weren't part of the plan, but you weren't just a chip to play, either...” Jack's eyes shifted to Angela. “Some of our team had the idea that you might be able to be retrieved, once we knew, for certain, that it was you. We wanted to see if we could get you out before Talon was eliminated. Some argued that once we had you, you could still be useful, if you chose to help us.”

“Chose.” Gabriel echoes instantly, his eyes locking on Jacks. “Was I given the choice, really?”

“Gabriel.” Angela tries to soothe, but Jack replies, he's almost casual about it.

“No, Angela. Let me help.” he looks back at Gabriel. “In the last several weeks you had every opportunity to leave, Gabriel. A chance you almost took, a few times. But you didn't. You stayed. You chose to be here, and you know it.”

Gabriel has no reply. It's no secret what his abilities can do. He knows that Jack's being honest.

“We could have put the same cuffs on you that we had on the first day, or employed similar technology on your room. We didn't. We let you go out. You weren't reprimanded when you left, or even when Jesse snuck you out-”

“ _Aw sheit.”_ Gabe can hear the cowboy murmur beside him, and the gunslinger reaches up to tilt down his hat, hiding his face somewhat.

“-Or when Angela let you out of your room unsupervised. The night we met in the rain. Nothing has been done to you that would suggest you were a prisoner, Gabriel. We all know what you're capable of. We wanted to see if you were willing to use it to get away. I suppose we thought that if you stayed, it would show your conviction either... to find out your own truth, or-”

“Or _what_ Jack?” Gabriel asks, voice slightly terse.

Jack sets his jaw, his brows tighten and he finishes his sentiment.

 

“Or just maybe you came back to us. Just maybe you'd find a reason to be one of us again.”

  
  


The hold was quiet, and no one said anything for a long moment. Everyone was asking the same question.

_Had he?_

_Had Gabriel found a reason to join them again?_

  
  


As Gabriel always did when he didn't want to answer a question, he looked away, ignoring all their questioning looks. They didn't need to know the answer right now. And yet... He knew the answer was that he _had,_ in fact,found a reason. If he hadn't found a reason, he wouldn't still be here. While he knew he had a reason, he would say to himself that it was to end Talon.

  
  


The truth however, sat across from him, once again fidgeting with the mechanics of his rifle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! I hope this one wasn't too gory for you. Props if you can name the announcer ;)


	18. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Mild gore. Catastrophe that may be triggering to some people. This is a few hours early because I have plans tonight!

Turbulence rocks the cabin just enough to make Gabriel stir. It isn't much, but enough that the paranoid wraith is awake in seconds. Within moments, he notices that Jack's come awake too, probably slightly prior, as his fingertips press to his closed eyes, massaging them. Everyone else is still asleep, including Jesse, who sags in his seat, hat placed lightly over his face. What small windows there are at the height of the cabin reveal nothing from without. It's so clouded over that Gabe couldn't guess the time even if he tried. Jack checks his watch,but reveals nothing to Gabriel, who slouches some in his place a bit more, arms crossed, hood pulled up, shades still on. But, from where he sits, he can spy across the way at the once-blond. In this dim light, it's almost possible to imagine that Jack's hair hasn't turned white,or that he doesn't have that massive scar across his forehead, nose and cheek.

Before Gabe can dwell on it, another bout of turbulence rocks the cabin, shifting them all sideways slightly. When some rouse, Jesse merely leans into Gabriel, his hat rolling off into the floor, and no one bothers to fetch it. Gabriel's mind suddenly wanders as an unexpected memory takes him.

 

~

 

A loud alarm erupts from speakers that Gabriel didn't even know were there, in every room. The noise is so loud that he all but launches himself out of his bed, his covers flying away from him. The cold of the room clings to his bare skin in seconds, causing goosebumps to form over his chest and arms. His chestnut eyes turn towards the clock. One-twenty-three in the morning; _Christ_ , why is there an alarm? It's not a fire alarm, that one he knows instantly. Seconds later, the alarm is interrupted by a loud beep, followed by Walcott's rough voice.

 

**“Soldiers! This is NOT a drill. There is a mandatory assembly in the mess hall NOW. Get your asses out of bed, Gentlemen!”**

 

Gabriel is already dressed, but he's a mess. That hardly matters, as he hears Bennison tear out of his own room next door seconds later. Bennison is a veteran of a few months, so as much as Gabriel can't stand him, he's eager to see what he has to say on all this. They step out into the hall, already crowding with other soldiers all in various states of dress, most have managed pants and black shirts, but some have forgotten their shoes or fatigue tops. A rare few are still in pajama bottoms. Voices are everywhere, but ultimately, Gabe catches up to Bennison.

“What is this? What's going on?”

“You think I fuckin' know? You see any calm on me, Reyes?” Bennison utters, and though he has his usual, disappointed inflection, Gabe can hear panic in his voice. This is new, and whatever it is, it isn't good. Gabriel asks no more questions, instead, filing into the mess hall with everyone else. It was the first time Gabriel had seen everyone in one place, and now, he could see the full scale of the SEP. Besides himself and his team, he could count at least sixty other soldiers there with them, perhaps a few more. Yet, it seemed a small number when compared to most other organizations like this one, particularly when compared to the military... Yet, Gabe understood that this wasn't military, at least not _really._ They weren't really normal soldiers, either, though, he reminds himself. They barely pay attention to where they're sitting, or who's with them, but Gabe's head darts, looking for a flash of blond wherever he can find it. Jack has been on his mind ever since that night that they kissed, and now, concern colors his chestnut eyes. In the hassle, he's not able to find him, and soon he's sitting shoulder to shoulder with several others. Everyone's eyes are forward, on a large screen that had been rolled down on the long wall of the mess hall for a holo-projector that appears overhead. Walcott starts speaking the second that the doors close behind everyone, and besides the shuffle of bodies, everything is quiet otherwise.

 

“Morning, Gents. I wish I could say I was standing here with good news, but that's not the case...” Walcott pauses, and for the first time since their arrival to SEP, the Colonel seems like he might lose his composure. He looks down, swallows hard, and knits his brows. “We've been hit, Soldiers. Not Canada this time, but here, right here on home soil...” The holo-screen lights up, displaying a map of the midwest. It's showing up in colors of red through blue, and parts of Ohio and Indiana are blisteringly crimson. “A few minutes ago, three attacks were launched by Omnic forces. Though our information is hazy at best, this is what we know so far. The attack started here, at the O'Hare Airport in Chicago. It spread underground through the rail-lines right through Indianapolis, and moments ago, we caught word that it had reached Cincinnati. Military forces have already been deployed to handle the threat, but… Well, frankly, we don't know what we're working with.” The holo-screen starts displaying live feed behind Walcott. Whole streets are caved in, the sky burns red with fire, and buildings begin to collapse along weakened support ways, clouds like pillars of black rage pour out of the underground. Civilians flee from their homes, engulfed in flames, screaming. In Indianapolis, the circular memorial at the center of the city has collapsed completely inward, underground, leaving a crater like gaping hole at the crossroads of the intersection. In Ohio, several tall buildings have been completely collapsed. Gabriel can hear a few people in the crowd sob, and more than a few have tears running down their cheeks.

Gabriel's head snaps.

_Indiana.... Jack._ He had to see Jack. Still, it took longer to find him, and when he did, the reaction was not what he expected. The soldier was seated almost in the back of the room, sitting along the outer edge. His eyes cold, emotionless like ice.

Rage.

Gabe knew it without needing to pry deeper, having seen it himself. Jack surely had family there, somewhere. Hadn't he said he was from Bloomington before? That wasn't all that far from Indianapolis.

“We're going to be deploying two teams to counter act the attack as soon as the dropships are ready. Bennison, Helo, prepare your teams. Lift off is in twenty minutes.” Gabe's eyes dart to Bennison, who's eyes are sharp and hard, he nods firmly, saluting briskly. He barks back, along with Helo, a woman Gabe hasn't met.

“SIR, YES SIR.”

“This is it, Gentlemen. This is what we've been training for. This is why you were made. Get out there and defend our people. As for the rest of you, You're a few weeks away from completing your injections. We're going to be moving those up again. Training will now be every day except for injection days. For now, schedules will be T-B-D, so keep your comms on.”

Everything has become so _real_ all of a sudden. Henrique's casket flashes in Gabe's mind and he feels his stomach tighten, his hands clench at his sides. Brows knit and he feels anger come into his voice like a razors edge.

“Dismissed.” Walcott barks, but Gabe is already on his feet. As people stand, he weaves between them to reach the Colonel.

“Sir, Colonel Walcot, Sir-”

“T.C Reyes, what do you need son? I've only got seconds.”

“SIR, Yes sir. I wish to be deployed.”

“Now? You haven't finished your-”

“I know, Sir. I have to. It's why I'm here- please, Sir.” Gabriel all but begs, his eyes wide, frantic, Walcott can see the determination in his eyes and smirks.

“And you will. You'll serve us better here for just a little while longer, Reyes. Keep that rage in your heart and you'll be just fine. I'll let you know-”

“But- _Sir!_ ”

“DISMISSED, TEAM CAPTAIN.” The Colonel barks, and Gabe stills as the elder man walks away.

“Sir, Yes Sir.” He echoes after him formally. He turns now to face the room. Some people are standing, watching the holo-screen as it for once begins to slow live news feeds, not like what they've had ever since they arrived. This isn't recorded, but brand new. The war had arrived. Some soldiers are openly weeping, bent over in their chairs, holding their faces, knowing that they must have lost someone.

It reminds Gabriel that he hasn't spoken to Rosa once since he arrived here. Each time he's tried to call before, she hadn't answered. But now? Now he knew she had to be home, and awake. Sure, it was hours earlier in California, still the night before in fact, but she'd be home. Gabriel rushed out of the room, in-so doing, passing Jack on the way, who was leaning in the door frame, waiting for him.

“Where are you going?” Jack asks. His voice is rougher and more callused than Gabriel has ever heard it before. He's never seen the blond so angry in his life. It was as if life had suddenly showed up at his door, and then kicked it in. There's no formality in his presentation, he's speaking to Gabriel now, not his superior.

Gabe almost trips when he hears the voice, and turns to glance at the man.

“To call Rosa.” he says finally, his voice edged with concern. Jack grunts his understanding, then follows along beside in muted quiet. When they arrive at the assistant's center, where they had to make all their calls, there's already a few other soldiers there, and he's forced to wait. Finally, a spot at the phones opens up, and he shoulders his way in, bringing the phone up and pressing it to his ear. His fingers tremble as he dials the number.

_Ring. Ring. Come on, Rosa. Pick up. I need this goddamnit._

_Ring._

_Ring._

 

_Tchk,_

_“Hello? Hello?”_

Gabriel is so taken aback by the sound of her voice, so relieved somehow that he feels tears swell into his eyes, and he almost forgets to speak.

 

“Rosa... Hey. It's me. It's Gabe.”

“G-Gabe? _Gabe?!_ ” He can hear her choke up over the phone. “I, I thought, it's been so long... That maybe... Gabe...” Her sobs make any Spanish she utters there after nearly incomprehensible.

“No, not dead yet.” He laughs sadly into the phone. “But look, hey I haven't got long. I just, I needed to call you. I needed to tell you.”

“I-I know about the midwest... I saw. Me and Jake-”

“Jake?”

“AH, my boyfriend- anyway.”

“Ah.. yeah, well. In a few weeks I'm probably being deployed out there. I had to call you. I had to tell you... I.” He felt himself stammer over his words as emotions threatened to take him. “Listen, I'm sorry I didn't get a hold of you before. I just wanted to tell you that if something happens... You know.. Take my stuff from my apartment- you still have the key?”

“Yeah-” She sobs, not liking where this conversation is going.

“Ok. If it does- you take my things and you keep 'em. You give them to your kids, you hear me? The guitar-”

“But I don't hav-”

“You will, someday, Rosa. Save it for them. Make them remember who we were. You understand?” Someone had begun to nag at Reyes for being on the phone too long. “Listen I've gotta go miha.”

“Gabriel!-”

“I love you, Rosa. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gabi... Stay safe.” She weeps.

_Tchk._

 

_When did Gabriel's cheeks become so wet?_

He hangs up the phone and everything seems to move in slow motion. He's shoved out of the way and into the hallway. Staggering back towards the far wall, his shoulders bump into it, and suddenly he's sliding down the length of it the wall to the floor. His head is in his hands, tears soaking them. A primal roar first trembles, then tears, screams out of his throat in rage, so loudly then that no one dares to come near him or bother him. His head hangs and shoulders shrug with each sob as his voice breaks into nothingness.

 

Suddenly, someone braves to touch him, and Gabe flinches with the unexpected hand on his shoulder. Glancing up if barely, he can see Jack's silhouette standing over him.

“Lets get out of here.” He says gently, somehow still able to hear it over the noise of the hallway, and of people talking on phones just beyond. Gabriel doesn't know what to say or do, let alone think. Shouldn't Jack be just as outraged as he is? Should he be just as terrified? How can the blond stand there so placid, so stoic? Sure, the anger is there, and Gabe can see it, but it's nothing like what he expects. He wants to know more, but knows better than to ask now. Perhaps even Jack doesn't know what to feel. Maybe he's just in shock? The next thing Gabe knows, there's a hand pulling him up, and he moves off down the hall with Jack, who's a few slight steps ahead. From behind, Jack's back seems cold, intimidating and strong, his eyes downcast, in thought. Jack stops at his bedroom door and opens it, stepping through without hesitation, and he leaves it open. Once more, Gabriel follows.

Without another word, he closes the door behind him, and as he glances back behind him, Jack closes the distance between them and uses his weight to shove Gabe back against it. Their lips collide, but Gabriel is twisted and confused with his emotions. Their arms come around each other all the same, and tongue mingle feverishly. Neither of them are in the mood for this, but there need be no questions as to how, or why they're doing this. It's a welcome distraction from what's going on around them, and for a long moment, the two forget their titles, their typical roles, and simply enjoy the warm touch of one another. Gabriel allows himself to be pinned against the door, Jack's hands swarm over him greedily like bees in a fury, touching and groping, tasting without any concern for etiquette. The blond's rough fingers fumble at the hem of Gabriel's shirt, then slip beneath it, and the touch of his flesh is enough to bring Gabe out of his needy stupor.

“Jack-” He starts, but the blond kisses him again. Turning his head aside to break the kiss, he tries again. “Jack... What are we doing?”

“You don't like it?” The blond asks.

“Well yeah bu-”

“Then what does it matter?”

Their eyes meet, and for a moment Gabe's tempted to pry again, but the urge fades soon enough. Once more, Jack kisses him, seeming to grow more comfortable with his own boldness. As Gabe kisses the man back, he feels a few more uncertain tears slip down his cheeks. Jack's arms tug him towards the couch, which they crumple onto together. After a few minutes and no more progress made, the two fall asleep, curled there against each other, eyes closed, bodies exhausted from the rude interruption earlier, and minds equally well worn by the news, only to be awoken three and a half hours later by their standard morning alarm. No one says or indicates anything about them emerging from the same room, even the temperamental Bennison seems content to keep his thoughts to himself this time. Everyone's in shock.

 

No one can believe that this has happened.

No one's likely to forget it either.

For the first time, Gabriel begins to feel like he isn't the only one here anymore who hates the omnics. For the first time, maybe he's not alone, it seems.

 

~

 

Reaper's eyes gain focus once more, and when they do, they glimpse the windows to the outside, which have lightened up considerably. A sharp silhouette cuts itself against the horizon, dark grey against a vibrant pink and orange sunrise.

“The Dolomites.” Ana says as she moves to stand out of her seat, using the overhead handholds to steady herself as she moves to the window. “We're here.”

That seems to wake everyone else up, as in a matter of a few minutes, everyone's on their feet, rubbing sleep out of their eyes. The ship descends quickly, becoming stealth before it's in anyone's line of view. The ship is small and deft, dipping beneath the rim of a sharply angled overhang of solid dark stone, disappearing into a hangar that has opened for them in the very face of the mountain, perfectly blended. To anyone who happened to be looking, it seemed like a shifting shadow, and nothing else. Gabe is stricken by a sort of claustrophobia, the sense of being trapped in a way that only the underground can offer, but oddly, he's reminded of the subway system in Los Angeles from when he was a boy, and more recently, the high-tech elevator from the last base comes into mind. It comforts him somewhat. Eventually, the tunnel opens into a broad hangar, with even larger tunnels still that lead out, probably for a bigger ship, but all around the interior of this underground hangar-cave, there are bright white lights illuminated from within, rooms inside the base itself that have windows into this large chamber. The ship lands, and the cargo door opens, letting everyone out. The air is chilled, and cuts through their clothing, making Gabriel shudder. However, in the darkness of the room, he's forced to remove his shades just to see everything in detail. Pipes run everywhere, and much to his surprise, some walls are made entirely of glass, revealing glimpses of rooms beyond. They stand on a tarmac made not of tar, but of dark grey slate stone, reminding him almost of a medieval courtyard. There's a fountain in the midst of it, and paths lead off in different directions. He can see one lead to a set of envirodomes, which surprises him, but then, he knows it shouldn't. Some of Overwatch's tech seems incredible, now that they're no longer an illegal operation, so the idea of indoor-underground working, growing envirodomes doesn't strike him as out of place. They're lit up, almost as if it were real sunlight, though he knows it can't be.

“Gabriel?” Ana is saying, realizing he's stopped, while everyone else has moved ahead and into the base. “Come on now. You'll have time to look around later. Lets get you situated at your new quarters.” And he nods, following along behind as she talks. They enter through a tall archway with sliding doors. At the apex of the arch, the Overwatch sigil hangs boldly from three sets of chains. The sigil itself is worn and tarnished, pockmarked with damage, clearly a relic from the old days, from its prime. “Your quarters are next to Jesse's.” She's saying. “Along with a few others, though, you might find it a bit lonely, still. Many of us come and go from this facility, either on missions or supply runs, other calls, work around the facility itself...” Inside the sliding doors, the place is oddly organic, modern almost. Separating the upper and lower half of the walls there is a goldenrod divider. While the lower half of the walls seem to have borrowed from the slate color of the exterior, the upper half are bright white. Neon fluorescent lights line both upper corners where the walls meet the ceilings, and follow the paths with ease. There are shelves here and there, benches with potted plants nearby, greenery allowed in as if to disguise the fact that they're under ground. There are comm devices on the wall outside of many doors, various cupboards built right into the walls, storing who-knew-what, and smaller hallways that lead off in differing directions. Gabriel could not help but feel for a moment that he was in the human equivalent of an anthill. “Off this way you'll find all of our training facilities. I think you'll find them quite suitable. We have all of the traditional things- a gym, workout equipment, a track, a sparring room, a shooting range, and a variety of other commodities for our soldiers to work with. You'll find the medbay just up that ramp to the left. It's more or less a hospital now, as we have more than simply one medic on our roster. They work closely with myself, Angela, and some of the scientists-”

“And the new recruit?”

“Mmh? Who? We have many.”

“The musician, the DJ. Lucio?” Gabriel asks for clarification.

“Ah! Yes. Our new, bright, bubbly little Lucio.” She laughs. “He's cute, I think, but he has much to learn, probably. All the same, he's devoted to our cause, and has already helped us many times. He'd save your life in a pinch, I'm sure of it.”

“His sound gun is no joke...” Reaper is reminded of the altercation in the hallway, months ago.

Ana again laughs. “Ah, no. It isn't. But then, why would it be? The Vishkar corporation's tech is... quite powerful. It can be especially useful in the right hands.”

“You don't agree with the Vishkar?” Gabriel pries.

“Mmhn. It isn't that I disagree with them, Gabriel. I think that some of the things they have done are amazing, and helpful. Rebuilding cities, helping civilians... Utopaea was a fantastic success. But, like _all_ companies, it is subject to the whims and wants of living beings. Corruption, greed, you know... I do think they went too far in Rio... But that is not my fight, is it? For Lucio, it is. We must learn to pick our battles, Gabriel, one target at a time. Right now, Talon is more threatening to us than Vishkar is by a long shot. No one's perfect, but all improvement comes in time... If they become a problem, we can deal with them, too.” And Gabriel is satisfied not to ask more, which is good because as a door opens before them, they're greeted by an all-too familiar Gorilla that Reaper cringes to see again in the flesh. Their eyes meet, and in seconds, Gabe can tell that Winston is sizing him up, regarding him as if trying to gauge his level of threat.

“It's good to see you again, Captain Amari... I trust your flight was smooth?” Winston asks, turning his eyes between them.

“Smooth enough, I'd say. We're here, and in one piece.”

“Oh- Oh, yes. Of course...” His eyes latch onto Gabriel's again, spying the smoke that drifts off of him. He's clearly still skeptical. “We're _not_ going to have a problem, are we?” he asks, as both of them recall how their last battle went... Gabriel feels Reaper scream inside of his mind. He wants nothing more than to beat the _crap_ out of this 'Scientist.'

“No, _Sir._ ” Gabriel rumbles back, his voice forming a small line, but he makes an attempt to keep his temper in check. Ana smiles as if nothing's out of place, but she's smarter than that.

“Ah. Good. Looks like things are back to normal, then. I will see you in the command center in a few minutes, yes? I'm just getting Reyes settled.”

“Of course.” Winston says, dipping his head some and turning away, wandering back down the hall. It's hard to picture the _monkey_ as in control, but if everyone here says that he is, Gabriel's not in any position to argue.

Once they're out of earshot, Gabriel, still glaring the way Winston had gone, replies. “What do you mean, back to normal?”

“Oh... That. Well. You and he never got along. Not even in the old days. His scientific calculations and analysis used to annoy you, or bore you. You two got in arguments _frequently._ Particularly when you would fall asleep during his scientific debriefings. I admit, he can be a little difficult to be around sometimes, but he is friendly and helpful, smart and kind. He means well to help this company, and the world... Even if many times he is equally shunned and disregarded by it. You might want to have some humility, Gabe, as you and he have been through more in common than you may yet realize.” She advises, and Gabriel is quiet, merely shrugging his reply. “Anyway, food is actually up on the highest level, up that ramp and to the left. We have a typical kitchen staff, and a small cafe. There's a lounge nearby with a large screen... Sometimes they show movies there and whatnot. Sometimes it's just news, or urgent updates. You'll find screens all over the base to keep you up to date. There's also alarm bells for emergencies, and comm devices near almost every door. You will find a private phone in your room- each phone has its own number... but, for safety reasons, you cannot dial out from these phones. They're for communicating within the base itself. Dialing out requires you to either use a personal phone that you own yourself, or one of the phones on the upper command center. Naturally, all location signals coming and going from this base are scrambled, and you're not permitted to tell anyone where we are specifically. You could tell them we're in Europe, but you couldn't tell them where, exactly, or that this is our headquarters. Obviously, we need to keep ourselves safe. Ah! There's also a pool, and the envirodomes you saw back there. The hangar leads to a vehicle garage that will lead you onto the main roads if you need to get out, but that will require a clearance card, not only to run vehicles, but to open garage and hangar doors. We will get you those in time. I think Winston will still need a little more time to trust you before he allows it... Naturally.”

“Too fast, Ana... I have questions.”

“Ah, yes, of course you do.”

“This is not an island,”

“No-”

“Then why envirodomes? Can't we just get supplies shipped in?”

“And risk someone else getting in, or discovering our location? No. These domes are not as large as the ones in Fiji, but they provide supplemental products, either for medicine or the kitchens. It's by no means a full crop, if you will. All of our meat is still shipped in, for example. Or, rather, we pick it up and bring it back ourselves. We have associates who do that sort of thing. It's not what you'll be doing.”

“And what _will_ I be doing?”

“Oh... With your talents? I think there's a plan for you, but I'm not yet at liberty to say. After all, we're the only ones who yet know you're here. Your presence will be something of a shock to the UN, I'd imagine, so we'll have to handle that... delicately. For now, they haven't been told of you.”

“ _Way to make a man feel like a dirty little secret, Ana.”_ Reaper rumbles, and she smirks faintly.

“Oh come now, as if it was the first time.” She teases lewdly, forcing him into silence before she stops abruptly. “This is you. Well, this is your hallway. I trust you can find your room, yes? Your key is inside.” she motions him off, and before he has a chance to dwell, she's moving away, and he's headed down the hallway to find his room.

Then he spots it.

It isn't much, but a small placard beside a door, and beneath it, a list of old, defunct medals of his ranking. It listed everything from his military days to SEP, to Overwatch, and then, finally, Blackwatch Commander. Besides this, there was a small screen beneath this that scrolled small tidbits of information, like, when he was born, when he was pronounced dead, how old he was at that time, what height and weight he'd been. Current status? It was listed as 'unknown.' He guessed that would probably change once the medbay had a formal look at him, or once Angela's information got put in... If she put it in, he wondered. Would she, since he wasn't even suppose to be here?

Gabriel pushes his way into the room then, entering into a sort of living room. To his immediate right, there is a decent sized holoscreen on the wall surrounded by shelves, room for things he would eventually own, and in front of it, a comfortable seeming couch with an end table, and upon it, the promised phone was attached, sitting upright from its base. To his left, there is a pathway that leads around the couch to the back of the room, where a minibar sits. A small, rectangular black glass table rests in front of it with four seats, room for a computer if need be. Gabriel comes to realize that almost all his furniture is black. The minibar, with black granite counters, the sofa with only a slightly grey pattern on it, the carpet even, plush under his crushing combat boots. The wall is painted a sort of cobalt blue, and the left most wall is made of a mirror entirely, making the space feel larger, even though it's fairly decent sized as it is.

Off to his right, there's a door that leads to a bedroom, which he casually wanders into. A wide bed with black and grey sheets takes up the far wall pressed into the back corner across from him, pressed longways against the wall, and at its foot, embedded into the wall there is a closet, again, empty, with a number of hangers made of some kind of dark wood. Across from the bed, directly to Gabriel's left as he enters the room, there's a fireplace, currently off, with a mantle over it; more room for things he doesn't yet own. Between the fireplace and the bed a pathway stretches to an open door, a bathroom in various shades of dark grey. Two sinks, a walk in shower with an adjoining tub, and a high window that offers some kind of outdoor light, filtered in who knew how.

It occurs to Gabriel that this room is meant for two people... And only by the bed being pushed up against the wall as it is, does it seem like it might not be. Of course, two people could still get in and out of the bed... Hell, someone could be pinned up against the wall, on the be-

_Gabriel stop._ His mind hurdles over itself with his eagerness, and he flushes, dropping his black bag of items on the floor to be organized later. Did they intentionally give him this room meant for two people? _Obviously they did, his name was on the freaking door, more or less._ Reaper is never subtle in his line of thought, but that fact alone makes Gabe blush all the more. Did they expect him to be bringing people here? _Who_ would he possibly bring?

Only one name, one face filters into his mind and all at once he snorts, rebuking quietly to himself.

“ _Don't be ridiculous.”_

He spots a screen over the mantle of the fireplace, too, as he turns to head out. It's on, and much to his surprise, showing the same forest scene that he had back in Fiji, except this time it's showing all the details, the time and date, location and weather, temperature, and additionally, what appears to be a task board specifically for him... Daily orders, he realized. Right now, it simply read, _Arrive at Medbay 1 at 1200 hours. Appt, Dr. Ziegler. Assessment and debrief._ Finding a similar remote for the screen, he learned quickly how to make it set alarms, and make his own notes, schedule his own tasks and have them alert him, or wake him if need be. He could set tasks days in advance, which he found especially helpful. As of yet, his calendar was empty, but he imagined that it'd eventually fill up once Winston- or _whoever_ \- decided where they wanted him to be.

Alas, Ziegler didn't need to see him until noon, which meant he had several hours to wander around and have a look at the base... For once, no cameras, no surveillance, no escorts, and nothing that might even slightly imply that he was a prisoner. His key was slipped off the rectangular table in the back of his living room- what he'd call the dining area, and slipped into a pocket before he headed out.

As he passed other people, all of them foreign to him, no one looked or said anything beyond giving a slight greeting, sometimes even a smile... But, undoubtedly they knew who he was, yet no one balked or shrank away from him, no one shirked him, and he started to relax some, even enough to drop his hood, at least for now.

Gabriel wandered the halls for a while, finding his way to all the common areas, and keeping a mental note of a few other possibly useful hallways, but this place was indeed a labyrinth, and somehow he doubted he'd know his way around it entirely _ever_ , let alone just now. Eventually, however, he did find his way back to the hangar, or rather, the courtyard just in front of the hangar that lead off to the envirodomes. Inside the mountain it felt somewhat cold, not so much from the weather, but from the sheer lack of sunlight here. All of the heat inside was pumped in with machinery, which was all well and good, but they didn't heat the hangar, and nor would he have expected them to... Perhaps the envirodomes would offer him something that felt at least slightly more authentic.

The sound of his combat boots echoed off the slate stone floors and walls, which lit up with embedded circular lights as he got closer, slowly brightening from off to yellow. The light of it gleamed off his caramel toned skin, giving him away as he approached the archway that lead into the domes, a tall glass wall with the stone archway built into it. Here, the floor lit up as he walked, just until he reached the other side, entering the first envirodome. Light bathed over his skin then, warmer and more convincing, soaking into his flesh and making him squint against the light. Shadows wafted off of him, as if in rebuke to the sudden brightness, but he allowed it. Squinting into the gleam, he noticed that the ceiling was lit up bright, three circles of varying size, though all were similar to each other, clumped close together and touching on their rims. This detail was almost hard to make out given the sheer brightness that poured through them like great faucets for the sunlight. When his eyes finally regained their focus, he was able to survey the rest of the dome. Unlike the ones on Fiji, these were not made entirely of glass. In fact, the walls were all made of the same dark stone surrounding them, left rough in some places, almost like they'd been natural caves, though the shape of them proved it wasn't so. At the top of each dome, which he soon realized there were only two, those brilliant lights sat. Mirrors to the outside light, he assessed easily enough. Their light filtered down into the domes, feeding grass, trees, a number of gardens carrying who knew what. There were people here too, assistants, many of them wearing white or black, or other solid colors.

Gabriel wandered in further, exploring, letting the heat soak into him, ignoring, but not oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. He'd been under lock and key for so many weeks now that the feeling of being observed was natural to him, enough that he did not bother to look when a worker with dark hair turned away, a smile on her lips, and headed out of the domes.

“Magnificent, isn't it?” A familiar, gruff, German voice called to him. Gabriel hadn't even seen Reinhardt sitting there on one of a few stone benches scattered throughout the dome, not far from where Gabe now stood, but if he was startled, he didn't show it.

“For a big man, you seem pretty good at stealth, Reinhardt. I can't help but wonder if you wouldn't have made a better assassin in your day than a knight.” Gabe muses at the man, who laughs.

“Assassins... Cowards. What glory is there in a fight that isn't fair?”

“No fight is fair, Reinhardt.” Reaper reminds, his fingertips brushing against his own palms, he turns to face the man entirely, who is quiet. “You think me a traitor, don't you? I've heard you shout it before, when we fought.”

Reinhardt shrugs some. “Find me proof to the contrary, Reyes. I want to believe it isn't so. I want to believe Angie and Ana. Find me proof. It's why you're here.”

“ _Why I'm here?_ ” Reaper asks as Reinhardt stands, towering over him, grunting slightly.

“Something like that. What do you mean in _my_ day?” Rein balks slightly, and Gabriel laughs, looking away.

“You've got to retire sometime, big man.” He replies somewhat smoothly, looking back at Rein, who laughs, unimpressed somewhat.

“I keep hearing that... My reply? _Not today. Not while there's still fight left in me._ ”

Gabriel shrugs, grunting back at him. “Courage like that can get you killed, Reinhardt.”

“It also saves lives, Gabriel. Something you once knew.” Gabe can almost feel the knight's voice reverberate through the air, and it causes him to take a half step back as Rein extends his hand to Reyes. “Maybe we can remind you of that, yes?” Rein effortlessly makes his support clear, if still somewhat intimidating. Beyond any doubt, he's watching Gabriel, but he has hope, if only a little, that Gabriel's still in there. Gabe has a feeling that he might not have gotten along with Reinhardt too well in the past, either. If hesitantly, he shakes the man's hand, which dwarfs his own, and lets go. As the big knight strides away, Gabriel watches him go before resuming his look around the envirodome. It's quiet, warm, and no one else disturbs him as he eventually departs to have his meeting with Angela.

It takes him a little while to remember the way, and after a short twist through the maze like tunnels, he finds Medbay 1, where she's said to be. He's surprised at the number of assistants and nurses they have here, along with other, more traditional doctors, and for a moment, he's able to forget he's underground in a hidden Overwatch base. It's easy to ignore, when everything inside is a mix between sterile clean and homey, with warm overhead lights and furnishings that make it feel more like a hotel. Fiji felt similar, but undoubtedly, it was more luxurious than this place was, not that he minded, in all truth. Fiji was a resort location, so it made sense for it to fall into that theme, even if it wasn't actually a resort below the surface. Perhaps that was why Talon had never found it, he thought.

Finally, a white door opened at the end of the hallway he was on, and Angela stood in the doorway, distracting his further thoughts.

“Ah, you're here... A little late, but I suppose I can overlook it. Come in, Gabriel. Over the last several hours, our researchers here have been doing more tests and analysis, trying to find a solution to what will eventually be a... recurring problem.”

“What problem is that?” he asks as he steps in, letting his eyes scope the room. In truth, it wasn't all that different than the office she had before, except that this one had, in addition to the raised, reclining patients chair in the middle of the room, two black seats, and a doctor's stool at the counter itself. There were no windows in this room, but the cabinetry was almost identical, though the space itself was a bit larger. White and dark grey, accents of black and green with a potted plant here or there.

“Well, without Owellton or places like it to sustain you, we once again run into the trouble of your feeding. Obviously, there aren't any places like that nearby to here, and we cannot simply allow you to attend missions with us for the intention of letting you feed. As Ana said before, as of yet, the UN does not know of your presence here, and we cannot afford for them to find out in such a way.”

“ _In such a way?_ ” He echoed curiously, coming to sit in one of the black seats. Angela slowly turned so that she could sit on her stool, then looked back at him.

“Gabriel, there is much you have done that the world wants justice for. The UN is at the forefront of trying to bring you to justice. If they see you, if any of these places, these governments, find you, they _will_ kill you.”

“ _They'll try._ ” Reaper growled out. “Is that what Russia was doing, when they collapsed the building on us?”

“Yes, something like that. They knew Widowmaker was inside. They were sure you weren't far. What we need is time.”

“Time? Time for what, Angela? For them to _figure it out?_ Do you truly intend for me not to go on missions?” Gabriel was getting heated, his voice raising slightly.

“Calm down, Reyes. Time, because if we can find out the truth of what happened... We may be able to prevent them from killing you. Perhaps in time we can even redeem you in their eyes.”

“ _Redeem me?_ Angela...” Gabriel starts, his brows furrowing some. He looks down and struggles to face his own words. “There is no redemption for me, Angela. I have seen and done far too much, even back then, by the look of things, before I was... this creature. Justice has been hunting me for years, and it won't be stopped just because I decide to change my colors.”

“And what does that mean for you, Gabriel?”

“It means that eventually, once I have what I want... Once I remember who I was, and I can come to terms with who I am... _What_ I am, I've no other goals. Perhaps I will let justice catch me.”

“You intend to turn yourself in?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I'll disappear.”

“All the same, while you're fighting that internal war, you will still need to feed, and out of the line of sight of politics and laws. You will have to stay here, or in the shadows, as it were. Not out there, not on missions, not killing, or... draining the people we've felled in combat. As of yet, Reaper cannot be associated with Overwatch and what we're doing here. It would compromise everything we're working for, and Petras can be just as easily reenacted if they find us in the wrong... Obviously, bringing you here would be considered _more_ than illegal. Alas, some of my researchers have a test they want to run. They think that based on the blood I analyzed from you, and some of the bodies you've left behind, that your nanites may actually by taking something physical from your victims. Plasma, flesh perhaps, to repair you. They have a theory then...” She said, moving to stand as she reached out to pull a notebook off the counter with a pen. “They want to see if your body reacts the same way to bodies that have been cryofrozen. You cannot feed off of the long deceased, yes?” She said motioning him to follow, and he rose, nodding.

“They have to be fresh, always.”

“Cryofrozen are about as fresh as you can get, short of the actually-living. We want to see if your body requires more from them to heal.”

“But I have just fed, Angela, there's nothing to recover.”

“Oh, don't worry about that.” The way she spoke so casually made Gabriel nervous, and caused his brows to hike on his forehead as he followed her.

“What do you mean, _requires more?_ ” he asked curiously, trying to keep track of the halls they were walking down, rather unsuccessfully. She lead him into the more scientific, lab oriented areas of the medbay, until they emerged at what appeared to him to be something like a morgue. All these bodies were frozen, though some were being used for testing. She walked by them nonchalantly, leading Gabriel through more than three before they arrived at a closed off room in the very back with glass walls. A body sat defrosting, obviously dead, horizontally lain on the metal table in the center of the room. The room itself felt much like a refrigerator, and goosebumps formed themselves on his skin, making him shudder. Angela seemed unfazed as she replied.

“You see, with my staff and my suit, I can revive someone who has just died. It takes much power from me, but I can do it, though, not every time, obviously. I do this by using localized nanites to restore their flesh. Your body may be trying to do the same, only in reverse, because it lacks the ability to recreate the flesh itself... So it has to _steal_ it from someone else. However... There are some who think your ability has a... magical quality.” She laughs slightly, giving away that she thinks that such a notion is utter nonsense. “Some say you consume their _souls_ , Gabriel-”

“I've seen the media, Angela. Get on with your point.” He says, looking down at the body. Angela turns away and fishes into a drawer, putting aside her notebook.

“My point, Gabriel, is that this test could... mmm, well. Not disprove souls, but at least prove that you don't feed on them. These bodies have been dead for months, almost a year in some cases. If they had souls at one point, they're long gone now. If you recover entirely, then you do not need souls.”

“And if I don't...?”

“Do _you_ think you consume souls, Gabriel?” She asks, turning to face him.

… There's a knife in her hand. A big one. Gabe's stomach sucks in and he takes half a step back, growing nervous. Angela smiles, she clearly seems to enjoy the look of strong uncertainty that has come into Gabe's intense, chestnut stare.

“N-No?” Gabriel stammers, taking another half step back, his hands are slightly raised now, “Could you maybe _point that somewhere else?_ ”

Angela laughs. “You have nothing to worry about, Gabriel. I'm merely going to make a small cut. Give me your arm.” For the time being, they seem to ignore what it could mean if he doesn't actually heal. _Could he be magical?_ Gabriel is skeptical, and at the moment, it doesn't matter, but what does is the way Angela's holding the knife, and asking for his arm. Sucking in a breath, he cants his head at her.

“I'm trusting you, Angela.” He replies, and she nods.

“No more than a scratch, Gabriel. If it doesn't heal, I'll fix it myself. Okay?”

Reluctantly he nods and steps forward, extending his left arm to her. Her fingers slip under his wrist and tug the arm forward so that the fleshy back of his forearm is in front of her, and she slides up the sleeve of his hoodie. Again, she finds herself amazed at how well his body has managed to pull itself back together after feeding. He looks good, no different than he had days before the explosion that killed he and Jack. Cautiously then, she brings the blade up. It has a sharp edge similar to that of a scalpel, but the blade itself is thicker, for making deeper cuts. “When I do this, you will need to do whatever it is you do to heal normally... However you feed.” She explains, and when he nods, she brings the blade up against his flesh. The blade cuts into his skin easily, drawing fresh blood to the surface. As before, it's dark red, swirling, almost sparkling. Smoke drifts up off of it, adding to the metallic scent Reaper usually carries on him. The wound itself oozes, and he winces, hissing with pain as she draws the blade down, elongating the injury.

“ _Enough, Angela._ ” He growls, drawing his arm away. She's fascinated at the way the skin seems to smoke as if burned where it's been cut, but there is no actual burn, nor the scent of cooked meat. Gabriel's body twists in a strange way, his body becoming smoke at his legs first, then up the length of his torso, until he faces the corpse as nothing more than a shade. His eyes like red beacons prime upon the body as he shifts, ghosting up over it, onto the table. From within the black mist that he is, his arms of solid black, fuming shadow, latch onto the sides of the table, suspending him. From here, she can see the wound, like a black crevice in his arm, fuming like a deep sea vent, churning out black smoke as though it bleeds. Then, the wraith seems to inhale. She cannot see his mouth, but if he has one, it does not open. But his chest expands, and the shadows seem to come to life, surging outward, then inward, and pulling through the corpse. The body begins to shrivel and twists slightly, moving as Gabriel's shadow surges through it. When at last the smoke begins to retreat, Angela can see how the fuming arm has closed, as if a volcano shown in reverse, it tightens back together like a zipper almost, eliminating the injury. The ghostly figure shifts off the table, coming to stand, and forming slowly. First his head, then shoulders, and lower. He's staring at her, his eyes still gleaming red for a few brief moments. He glances down at his arm as she gawks at him.

“Fascinating.” She murmurs quietly. His eyes snap back to her, saying nothing, and he presents the arm. There's nothing on it. No injury, no scar, nothing.

“Not souls, I guess. Not magic.” He remarks, and she smiles, shrugging.

“Maybe not. Still. This is good to know. We can feed you this way. Bodies are regularly shipped to this facility for research, so you need not starve, Gabriel. This is good. Thank you for indulging me.” She says, glancing back to her blade- realizing suddenly as she looks at it that it is completely cleaned. His body has taken back from the blade what his body left behind, so much so that there isn't even a stain in its wake. Gabriel, as always, is a little _off_ after his feeding. He feels invigorated, eager, bloodthirsty, despite that he's completely healed. Goosebumps rest on his skin now, but not for the same reasons. Slowly, the glow in his eyes fades and he dips his head at the doctor, who's already begun writing notes.

“ _Afternoon, Ziegler._ ” He rumbles in farewell as he turns and ghosts out, not bothering with the door for now. The recognizes the change in him, in his personality, and the way Reaper seems to take over when he feeds. This, she jots down too.

“Afternoon, Gabriel.” She replies before the last of him seeps under the door.

 

Gabriel cannot help but dwell upon the topic. His feeding, the nanites, and what mystery it is that Talon had done to him. Before he lets any justice take him, he swears that they will pay the price for what they had turned him into... This pain that his body feels on a regular basis, this bloodlust, the need to kill, to feed... All forced upon him by a death he should have been allowed to keep. All of the lies they'd fed him and convinced him of, making him out to be their useful tool, doing their bidding... All the lives he had taken _for them_. They would not escape that slight with their lives.

 

He wandered the halls, fuming, eventually coming to walk after a time if only to hear his footsteps on the ground. Thoughts brooding silently in his mind, distracting him in his stride until he eventually found himself in the training facility. It was empty here and large, with all the amenities Ana had promised him of before. Feet carried him along the outside until he reached a room he hadn't expected. It was much like a dojo, unmatched by the rest of the facility. Wood pillars, wood flooring, rice-paper walls, a few benches along the sides, and in the back of the room, he caught sight of something that surprised him.

It was a pair of katanas, no doubt for training recruits.

_Was this all Genji's?_ It had to be, he supposed, striding forward and letting himself stop in front of them. Left hand dropped onto the hilt of one of the blades, resting horizontally on a katana stand, one of three. It was sheathed in black, wrapped with dark blue ribbon about its hilt. Smiling, he couldn't help himself, and slowly drew the blade free so that he could investigate it.

Then he heard them. Footsteps some distance behind him, standing in the doorway to the dojo, soft and barely audible... A voice.

 

_“So how about those guitar lessons, Chief?”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this drama-full chapter!  
> With ANY luck I will be home in time next week to actually put out the next chapter but... I make no promises. I'm sorry! If you havent been following my Tumblr or my DeviantArt, suffice to say right now things IRL are very chaotic and I am not sure when or where ill be back at home again.


	19. Mirage

The sound of shoes on the ground behind him. Not heels, boots, metal; no... Simple, leather and rubber... shoes. Like those of a doctor. The voice, somehow sweet, but hardened with age, edged with a familiar warmth.

 

_Chief._

_**Chief.** _

 

Only one person in the world had ever called him that, and today, she sounded tough as nails.

 

_Katie._

 

Gabriel, somehow disbelieving his ears, wheeled, only for his eyes to astound him even further.

There she stood, dressed up in scientist garb, white coat, blue button down shirt, dark pants. His mouth hung open, chestnut eyes fastening upon hers, so dark that from here, they looked solid black. For the moment, everything, all of his troubles sat lost and abandoned as if thrown to the wind. _How can this be? How is this even remotely-_

She was moving, striding forward, a notebook in her hand, a pair of glasses tucked into her chest pocket, a string of chain draped around her neck, disappearing down under the hem of her shirt- her own old dog tags, he realized as he stared down at her now. She, a foot away or so, looked up at him.

“Well well. The SEP really did fill you boys out, didn't it?”

Gabriel was starstruck. What could he possibly say or do, his words tripped over themselves in the back of his mind so many times that he couldn't make sense of them.

“Aren't you going to say anythin-?” She started, but her words cut out as the shade suddenly hugged her, unexpectedly, and entirely out of the ordinary for what everyone knew as Reaper.

“ _Katie._ ” The man choked out. “I- We.. You were... H-how- _Why didn't you tell us-?_ ” Or, had she, and he'd just forgotten? He held her so tightly that she had to tap his shoulder to urge him to lighten up, and when he did, she could see tears on the verge of his eyes.

“Oh come on now, Gabe, that look was never good on you.” She said gently, reaching up to soothe his cheek with a thumb while he looked away, sucking in a breath and trying to gain control of himself. But, he struggled, and still a few tears slipped free. She wiped them with the back of her white sleeve, her eyes catching onto the smoke that plumed off of his skin in these emotional moments.

“So... it's true.” She murmured quietly. “I knew it all along...”

“ _Katie, how are you here, how are you alive- how did- I...”_

_“_ Shh. Calm down, Gabe. Come on, lets get out of here. We can talk about this somewhere else. Want a coffee?”

“..Yeah.”

“You still like it black as midnight?”

“...You remembered that...?” Gabe was astonished, half expecting to wake up any second now. She laughed and shrugged.

“Course I did. You think I forgot a day of that place? _Sometimes I wish I could._ ” She was already turning and heading away, expecting him in tow. He seemed for a moment to have forgotten how to walk, his toes curling in his boots, but soon after, he jogged to catch up.

“I have so many questions.” He rumbled at her.

“Of course you do. I heard about what happened, that you lost your memory... And no, because I know it's on your mind... You didn't see me before. This is the first time you and I have spoken in... years I guess.”

“Years.” He stammered. “You look good- I mean. I guess. You don't look like either of us- Me or Jack. You look like you hardly aged.” And indeed she did, Katie almost looked the same as she did standing on that tarmac beside him all those years ago.

“Mmhmm, well, you boys went through the whole program... I...”

“You _died._ ”

But she laughs and shrugs. “Come on Gabe, haven't you learned anything so far? No one dies anymore. Not you, not Jack, not Amari, Not the Shimada boy... Nobody. At least it doesn't seem like it... I don't want to talk about it here, anyway. The coffee place is just up the way.” She said, as they'd now exited the domes and entered back into the menagerie of tunnels and ramps that made up the base like a beehive, with just as many workers.

“I don't understand.”

“ _Just as impatient as ever.”_ she sighs, leading him into the coffee lounge. It's a lot like a vintage Starbucks, except that there's automated machines serving brew at the touch of a button. There's servers, too, but they're preoccupied behind a counter, fixing up more elaborate drinks. Gabe can't help but think that Keurig really outdid themselves here as he slips into the room, dark brown walls with built- in side-lighting and reclining leather sofas, oak-wood circular coffee tables, holo-screens with the latest music videos on play. There's an upbeat atmosphere here, and he's reminded heavily of the new healer, Lucio. Surely, some of this music was his. There were a few other people in the lounge, but they were either preoccupied with their own conversations or absorbed into a hand-held holo of some kind. All the same, no one seemed to notice or care that they entered. Silently, she lead Gabriel over to the machines and quickly set about getting her own, some kind of over-done cappuccino mix that, despite all the mix ins, smelled good. But, Gabriel wasn't feeling adventurous, so moments later, he filled his own cup full of a dark, aromatic roast and followed after her. Katie lead them to a back corner of the room where there were two small brown seats and an indoor plant to keep them company, some type of ficus, weaved at its trunk to make an intricate pattern. There was a screen nearby too, providing some background noise to discourage anyone from eavesdropping on them. She sat, and soon, he followed, saying nothing, but he gawked openly at her. How could it be that Katie was in such good shape after all this time? After having... supposedly died?

“Start at the beginning.” He said, leaning forward and pressing his knees onto his elbows. “Did you die? You were just _gone,_ Katie...”

“Yes. I was gone.” She confesses. “They caught me, Gabe. They had me on video, when I went in and got that... uh... Intel, I guess. It was easier for them to let you guys think something happened than to try disciplining me in front of you.”

“So what did they-?”

“They discharged me, Gabriel. Dishonorable removal from the program, top-secret contract of silence and all that. I wasn't allowed to talk to you, or anyone from the SEP, for the duration of your lives. They more or less exiled me back to where I came from. I basically had to disappear... After the shock of that settled in, I guess I got over it and moved on. I went back to school, got into science... I watched you and Jack become heroes on the holo-screen, unable to tell you, or anyone, that I was still here, and that I knew you. I was so... proud, Gabe. I missed you. I was so glad that you guys made it. That, out of everyone who died, you two struggled through it, that you survived.”

“I mourned you, Katie... Jack was there to pick up the pieces.”

“You couldn't have mourned _that_ long, Gabe. You're tough, and SEP was some rough shit... Though not as rough as what it seems you've been going through for a while now, I guess... The Reaper, huh? _Suits you,_ _I guess._ ” She laughed, sipping from her drink.

“Mmhnn..” Gabriel groaned. “I guess I'm still figuring that out... What would have happened if you spoke to us, or of us?”

“Imprisonment, probably. I don't really know. I didn't think it wise to go upsetting a company in the business of making soldiers strong enough to crush your head with their thighs.” She snorts, sipping again. Gabriel smirks and chuckles before he takes a drink of his own, settling back in his seat a bit more. “I knew it was you, though.”

“You said that before. How?” He asked.

“The way you move, Gabe. I'd seen it. I could just... feel it. It's like I could see it in you... But I didn't know how you got from the man I knew to being that... I just couldn't fathom it, I guess.”

“Part of you hoped it wasn't?” he asked, brow lofting. “That it wasn't me?”

“...Of course, but... Well because, I _knew_ you. I knew that whatever had to have happened, for you to turn into that thing would have had to be so terrible... I mourned you. When they buried you, I guess I was relieved. When your grave was desecrated, we assumed it was people who knew about Blackwatch, or maybe Overwatch loyalists who blamed you for what had happened... It could only have been a few people, after all, Jack was the face of everything... You were...”

“In the sidelines. So I'm told. Some people seem to think I got jealous and turned on him.”

“Do you think that happened?” Katie asked. Gabriel's eyes turns down into his mug and he shrugged gently.

“I don't know, Katie. I don't remember any of that yet. I have no idea what kind of mindset I was in then. Maybe I did... Anyway, what are you doing here, with Overwatch? Your contract?”

“It ended when you and Jack were officially pronounced dead. Without anyone left in the SEP to follow it up, its time has run out, so to speak.”

“But Jack didn't _die_ ,” Gabe protested, using what Angela had told him as a guideline.

“You don't think he did?” She asked.

“I know he didn't. Angela put nanites in his body, she said his wounds weren't as bad as mine and that they reacted 'normally' or... Something to that effect.”

“...Gabe.” Katie stirs uncomfortably in her seat somewhat, eventually crossing her legs and setting her coffee down. “Jack was pronounced brain dead within a few hours of the explosion. He was unplugged, even after Angela had done what she could for him... They buried him.”

“But I don't understand... He's clearly here, fine, very much _not_ brain dead. You've _seen_ him.”

“ I... I don't know, Gabriel. That's above my clearance, I guess. I just know that there's a tombstone for him. I've seen it. I've seen yours too. They were right next to each other before someone desecrated yours. After everything happened, I went to see them. Then all this stuff with Talon started, and I decided to keep my head down... Went back to my life. When it came out that Overwatch was looking for new help, I signed myself up. I guess I wanted to bring people hope, like you guys used to. I wanted to stop Talon. I was a PH. D. by this time, majoring in micro-biology and nano-technology. It was a good fit for Angela's work, I guess, so I started working here, in the envirodomes-”

“Is that how you look like this?” Gabriel interrupts, sipping.

“What do you mean?”

“Katie, you've barely aged at all.”

“Oh- right. Uh. Well. Yeah. We do a lot of experimental work. We've been working on some anti-aging stuff for a while now. Years. So far it's working fine, but it still hasn't gotten a complete green-light yet.”

“What's it waiting for?” Gabriel asks.

“Mostly just to see if anything terrible happens to the few of us who took it... Random convulsions, uh... implosions, you know. _Death._ ”

“How does that work? Is it just a physical thing, or is it... I mean... Your organs?”

“That's more or less what we're keeping our eyes on. So far it seems to be revitalizing everything, but we don't want to go too far. I don't want to be ten years old again, or go through puberty, you know. It's all very... delicate. Anyway.”

“ _Mm._ ” Gabriel grunts. “N _eat_.” He says, inwardly wondering if he'd even want to live longer if given the choice outside of the one fate had doled out for him instead.

“Yeah. Anyway, my break's over. I've gotta head back. You should go and make yourself comfortable somewhere. Maybe find out what it is they're going to have you doing until they have a place for you. It's good to see you again, Gabe. Alive, no less... Reaper or not.” She says, moving to stand. Gabriel stands with her, a smile that was equal parts rare and warm slipping onto his features.

“Same to you, Katie... You'll have to show me how to use those swords like you said.” and she laughs at him, finishing her coffee.

“Yeah. Maybe I will. We'll see.” She says, then turns to head out. Gabriel lingers only long enough to finish his drink before doing the same.

 

~

 

The days have never been more exciting for Gabriel than they are now. Days often spent training were ended in small, flirtatious nights with Jack, usually kissing, some touching, but so far, nothing further than the blowjob Jack had given him once before. He's at the height of his career thus far on his path for revenge. Talking with Rosa only served to make him angrier, so he trained harder, and pushed everyone along with him to their breaking points. Lethal. That was what they had begun to call him, and already, people were beginning to take bets on how long it would be before Reyes was unleashed onto the battlefield, especially now that Bennison had been promoted and moved along. Gabe spent the nights alone in his room, making it easier for him to brood when he hadn't escaped away into Morrison's room for a late-night diversion. The omnics would pay for what they had done, he said multiple times, on differing days, stilling it into his mind that this was, and could only be the solution to the crisis. In some respect, those around him began to think it too. The disaster had catapulted the nation, the world even, into violence, and though some might try to seek peace, that was not the reason Gabriel was here.

_This is my purpose,_ he thought as he sat in the training room, pushing himself against a set of weights that had defeated him twice before, leaving him with strained muscles. Jack was worried, and though they weren't suppose to be awake at this hour, he couldn't help but to abandon his room and see after Gabriel, who seemed incensed, almost maddened in the wake of the attack. Jack watched him now from the doorway into the training room.

A growl, almost animal-like, pushed past Gabriel's gritted teeth as he forced the heavy weights up off the ground once more, causing every muscle in his arms to cry with pain.

“ _I know you're there, Jack.”_ Gabe said, despite that his back was to the man. That voice... It had become familiar over the last few days... weeks? How long had it been since the attack? Jack could hardly keep track. The primal sound had worked its way even into Gabe's dreams, haunting him, and so, anyone else who heard it.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Gabe?” Jack asks, breaking away from the door, his shadow casting across the floor as he approached, a bottle of water in one hand. Standing just to the man's side, he extended the drink. “You'll hurt yourself, and get yourself killed. What good will you be to us then?”

Gabriel's chestnut eyes slide sideways, taking the offered drink, downing it without even taking a breath. His body is covered in sweat, and as much work as he's been doing, his body looks just about fit to rip out of his standard-issue SEP fatigues. His fatigue top is draped over a nearby table, and the black tank-top beneath leaves nothing to the imagination. It might have been arousing, if concern didn't cloud the air. “I'm not going to go down without a fight, Jack. Our bodies are made for this.”

“For _this_ Gabriel?” Jack counts the weights Gabe's lifting. It's fifty more on either hand than the week before. “What could you possibly be doing that you'd need to be this built for? Guns don't weigh _this_ much.”

“No, but omnics weigh double, Jack. If I lose my weapon, I don't want to be dead meat. I want to be able to tear them apart, limb by limb. _Circuit by bloody fucking circuit. I'll do it alone if I have to, with my bare fucking hands.”_

Rage. It was all that Gabriel knew. Thousands had died in the attacks from three weeks ago, and this had been building from a budding desire to kill to an overwhelming need for slaughter. Their injections were almost done, and he knew that in a few days time, they'd be done altogether.

“Four days, Jack.” Gabriel said, handing the empty bottle back. “That's all we'll have before we're finished products.” _Products, like they were being crafted into machines of war. Perhaps they were._ “And I don't plan on being sub-par.”

“Gabe, this isn't healthy-” Jack starts.

“Oh, no? _Really?_ ” Gabriel's stood up, his body cutting an intimidating figure despite that they're basically the same size, aggression oozing off of his frame. “I'm sorry, _pendejo._ Did you think that by signing up for this experimental little shit show, that you were going to be raised like organic, high-caliber cattle? Did you get it in your perfect little corn-fed happy-trails whitebread head of yours that this was going to be all health-and-fitness, nutritional proverbial-”

Gabriel's rant ended in pain, and Jack suddenly lashed out, swinging without even thinking. Gabe had never spoken that way before, at least, not in front of Jack. He went down, dazed, dizzied, sweat rolling off of him onto the floor. A hideous growl tore out of Gabriel as his head swung back towards the blonde, but Jack's face was a puzzle. Anger... pain. His jaw was hard set, as was Gabe's.

“You don't know the first goddamn thing about me, Reyes.” Jack snaps, wheeling away, tossing the empty water bottle aside, letting it bounce across the floor until it spins to a stop.

It's about then that Gabriel regains his composure, his eyes widening and he half pushes himself up off the floor, ignoring the swelling flesh in his jaw, realizing what he's said, and how he's acted. Jack has never lashed out at him like this before, and he supposed it was a rational response.

“Jack-! Look. I'm sorry. Wait. _Please._ ”

“Why?!” Jack turns glaring back at the man. “Give me a good reason.” Gabriel approaches him now, and his voice lowers as they speak together, alone and quiet. “Somethin' beyond you wanting to get your dick slicked now and again? It ain't a secret why you're here, Reyes. Everyone knows that you don't want anything less than extinction for the lot of 'em- but you ever stop to wonder why everyone else is here? You ever think about anyone _besides yourself?_ No. Of course you don't. Everyone else ain't why you're here.” Jack starts to turn to leave again, but Gabriel reaches out, his hand grasping onto his shoulder, which tenses up under his grasp.

“Stop- Jack. Wait. _No._ It isn't _like_ that. You're not... I mean... Wait. Talk to me.” He's almost begging. There's a vulnerable tone to his voice that Jack has barely heard before, so he stops, but looks down. He says nothing, merely waiting for Gabriel to speak. Gabe is quiet, but slowly comes around in front of him, putting himself between Jack and the door, as if to discourage anyone from eavesdropping should they happen to walk by some ten feet behind them.

“Look. _You're right, okay?_ Yes. I came here to destroy them. All of them. It's all I wanted... You're right. I don't know... _anything_ about you. I guess it never occurred to me to ask. I figured... if... If you wanted to talk about it, you would have before now. I assume everyone's here because they've got a reason, or because they had nothing else... But you... You're...” Gabriel's words taper off as he struggles. Being emotional and upfront has never been something he was keen on, and he hates revealing himself this way... But if he says nothing now, Jack may very well just walk out that door, and right out of Reyes' romantic circle, as it were. While this shouldn't bother him as much as it does, he cant bring himself to let it go, so he responds, his voice barely above a whisper. “ _This isn't fair. It isn't legal, but I want it, goddamnit. You're not just a toy to me, Jack. You're not just a good time. You're... You're more than that. But... it's so hard._ It's hard for me, Jack. How do I- how do _we_ commit to this, when everything about it screams that it's a bad idea? I could be dead in three months, and so could you. Hell, one of us could be dead in four days if the drugs don't go over...”

“Yeah, we could.” Jack pauses, gauging his words carefully. He knows the implications of what he's about to say. “Wouldn't you rather say you died _with_ someone, than alone?” Jack asks. Their eyes have locked, and Gabriel's features soften. Gabe has a lot of good points, but Jack appeals to his more personable side, or whatever little there is left of it. The silence between them lengthens, until finally Gabe can't stand it anymore.

“Jack...”

“No. Gabe. Stop. If you want to end this, here, now, just say so. Say so and we'll be done, and you won't ever have to worry about losing me again.”

“That's not true.” Gabriel replies gently, his stomach knotting. “Even if I called it off, here, now, I'd still think about you. I'd still worry. And I don't want to end it. It hasn't even been going on that long, but it means something to me, Jack. More than you realize.”

“Does it?” Jack's voice is challenging. His eyes shift, catching on one of the far cameras in the corner of the room. He's less concerned about the fact that it just watched him hit his superior than he is what he's about to say. Looking back to Gabriel, his voice is gravelly and cold. “Prove it.”

“Wh-how?”

“Kiss me. Right here, right now.” Jack insists.

“But we could-”

“We could get in trouble. I know. Maybe if we get thrown out we can see where this goes.”

“Jack...”

“No? Okay.” Jack brushes past Gabriel and begins to pace away, but all at once, Gabriel snatches his wrist and pulls him back, suddenly swinging him around and forcing his lips full and flush up against his own. Their eyes close, and arms fold around one another, ignoring the sweat and heat that transfers into them. In mere seconds, Jack is kissing him back, his rough fingers tugging at the tank top trapped between them and pulling Gabriel closer. Gabe almost forgets to breathe, his brows knitting as fingertips knead into the muscle of Jack's shoulders, possessively clutching the blond against him, forehead's touching briefly as the kiss breaks and they pant against each other. Finally, after what feels like a full minute, Gabriel breaks away and looks deep into Jack's sapphire stare. Both are well aware the trouble they could get in, but for the moment their eyes say all the words for them. Gabriel's committed, whether he wants to be or not. It's dangerous, and it's a weakness he didn't want, but it was there long before now, and despite his better common sense, Jack was right... If something happened to either one of them, wouldn't he feel bad that he _hadn't_ given this the shot it deserved? Wouldn't he have felt dreadful if Jack never found out how he felt? That wasn't something he thought he'd live with.

“Let's get out of here.” Jack says, and Gabe nods, letting his arms slide away. He moves off to fetch his fatigue top, the discarded water bottle and towel, then follows Jack out of the training room.

 

A few minutes later, they're sitting in the mess hall, still empty, sipping coffee and eating lukewarm oatmeal.

“I was raised in Bloomington. Bout a half hour or so from Indianapolis, I'd guess. When I was four, my parents died in a car crash. I was too young to remember them beyond a few memories. Guess I blocked it out. My grandparents raised me... Christian, home-grown Americans... I guess their religion didn't really appeal to me, but they never forced it on me. They supported me... Good people... But they were so much older. When I was fifteen, Ganny passed on. 'Pa took care of me until he got lung cancer. I was nineteen when he passed on... I guess it's like you said, people either got a reason to be here, or they have nothing left to lose. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, no money to go to school... Nothing but a good track record and the ability to run and play football. Figured I'd be a good military fit... Figured I could help people the way I'd been helped... That's what I wanted to do, Gabe. Help people... Wanted to be a hero to them like my Grans were to me. Sounds hokey I guess.” The blonds sighs, looking down into his oatmeal. Sadness taints his voice. He misses them, but it explains to Gabriel why Jack didn't seem as upset when the attacks hit.

“It's not hokey... Though I'm surprised you didn't grow up on a farm... Or desire to have one of your own.” Gabe says, trying to lighten the mood, somewhat unsuccessfully.

“Everyone thinks that's all there is in Indiana. Farms and corn.” He scoffs slightly as he sips cooling coffee. “It's mostly churches and little cities. No different than most places I'd guess. White picket fences and red barns; not really my style I suppose.” Jack replies, rolling his eyes as he looks down at his food. Gabe frowns slightly and leans forward a little, dropping his voice.

“So... when the attacks landed... You didn't lose anyone?”

“...Not personally, but it was my home, Gabe. It was everything I knew. Every memory I have from before the military, before this place, was from there... That's all gone now, don't you see? I can't go back.”

“You could.” Gabe presses.

“To see _what_ , Gabe? See what they did to the place?”

“To rebuild it. Make a new life. Remake your home... After all this fighting is over and we've won.”

“You really think we can win, Gabe? Do you?”

“I do.” It was a surprising thing to hear from the hardened, vengeful man.

“Those cities were downed mere minutes apart. It took US military two weeks just to restore order and evacuate as many as they could, and they're still fighting omnic remnants in those sectors, everyone of them that hasn't fled back to wherever they're holding out. The war is just getting started, and thousands have died.” Jack rebukes.

“We weren't on the scene yet, Jack. We were in- where, Canada? Not here. Not on home soil. The more they attack, the more we learn them. Once they let us loose, we can destroy them. I know it.”

Jack grunts, finishes his bowl of oatmeal and sips his coffee. He hardly seems convinced, but he doesn't argue. If anything, he seems relieved that Gabe has so much hope.

 

Hours later, Colonel Walcott calls both men into his office. It's as awkward as anyone would assume it would be.

“I didn't expect I'd have to be having this conversation with you boys, of all people.” The man says sharply as he flips on a small holo-vid recording of their kiss in the training room. “Now I've heard the rumors, boy have I, but this- this is a whole new level, isn't it?! Now what do you two gentlemen suppose I'm suppose to do to remedy the situation?” Neither of them say a word, they're petrified into silence. “Reyes... I really expected better of you. You struck me as a... by-the-book, kind of on-point sort of soldier, ain't you?... Now, protocol says I oughtta discipline you both, court martial you, or have you tried for dismissal. I've got half a mind to do just that.” The man pauses as he glares at them. Neither of them twitch or move a muscle, standing firmly in their places, formally. Internally, their nerves twist against their insides and their hearts beat like thunderheads. Walcott has never been this irate in front of them before. Usually, he's composed, if a bit blunt with his line delivery. Now? He struggles.

“You've put me in a real _shit_ place, you know that Reyes? You're forcin' me to make a decision here, and not one I ever wanted to have to make. You and blondie here are two of the best Soldiers we've got, and you're primed up to do some real good work in the field. You're four days away from your last injections, and you boys pull some shit like this. Now don't you get me wrong, I don't care if you were both black, white, straight, trans- whatever the _fuck_. YOU-” He points at Gabriel, who almost flinches with the finger jabbed in his direction. “Are HIS fuckin' superior! That's a rank I gave you because I believed you could get work done... Now I see you've got yourself a little... distraction. This shit will get you killed in the field, boys, and you know I can't allow it to go unpunished...

...However...”

Their hearts do hurdles with that word.

“Your team outperforms most of the other teams. Not by a whole lot, but by enough that it matters. Enough that we're going to need you in the field. You're both too far along to discharge now, and sending one of you home would cause dissent in the ranks, or at the very least, concern and questions ain't nobody got time for. The omnics aren't wasting time, gentlemen, and we're going to need everyone we can to put them down. As such, I can't afford to lose you, either of you. Now it's no secret to me that you guys work well in a team, you do, obviously so... So what do I do here?” The man pauses again, sighing. He shakes his head. “You boys are gonna get the hell out of here. This little video of mine is going to go missing, and I swear to _god_ if I hear one more thing, one more blip, or if I see you boys getting any more distracted than you already are, that's it. Game over. I'll ship you off to god knows where,” He says, gesturing at Reyes, then turning the finger towards Jack. “And I'll send pretty boy here up to Canada to fight with those boys, and with any god-willing luck, maybe you'll survive long enough to remember your fuckin' jobs. For now? This is your _only_ warning. Do I make myself _perfectly fuckin' clear, gentlemen?”_

“SIR, YES SIR,” they chorus together.

“Dismissed. Get out of my sight, Soldiers.” The man growls, turning away from them as the pair leave his office.

They're half way back to their dormitories when Jack finally speaks.

“Canada's a hell of a long way away.” He remarks dryly.

“I'd say so.” Gabe murmurs, still slightly flushed from the encounter.

“Where does this leave us?” Jack asks curiously.

Gabe seems to give it some careful thought before he looks down, lips pursing slightly.

“What's that they always say? _Keep your head down and you'll be fine.”_ He smirked faintly. So did Jack. In other words, they were still on, but they'd have to be even more careful than before. Walcott didn't seem to care so long as he didn't have to clean up any messes like the video had made.

 

~

 

Things are quiet on base. In the early morning hours, Gabriel wakes up and discovers that, like in Figi, most people are still asleep. That suits him fine, as it gives the shade time to wander, further memorizing the halls, and getting himself used to the labyrinth's layout. Eventually, he finds himself at the training grounds, the massive chamber that it was. It feels abandoned by how large it is, but there's a sound, one small hint that as of yet it isn't completely unoccupied. A sound ricochets off the walls, and then another. Gabriel follows the sound, his boots barely making a sound on the flooring all the same. He doesn't care to startle whoever happens to be there, after all.

Eventually, he enters through a door that reveals itself to be a shooting range. A flash of white hair, and Gabe already knows who it is. He turns as if to go, thinking that it would be best if he didn't disturb the Soldier. _There's no future with you. Talon is your mission now._ The thoughts linger in his head, reminding him that Seventy-Six is no longer part of the plan... Yet, he realizes in that moment that Jack _had_ been part of the plan- for how long now? He didn't know, only that this, his being here, his dwelling on this, was useless.

“You don't have to leave.” Jack says, giving away that his hearing is still as good as ever, even with earmuffs on to protect him from the sound of the pistol he's been aiming at the target on the far wall. Gabriel hesitates, but then stops, turning his head back towards the man. Jack takes a few more shots, before stopping to reload. “I'm just finishing up.” Jack adds, glancing over his shoulder. He sees Gabriel there, standing in the doorway, leaned against its frame, his hood up of his black hoodie, his pants, casual and hanging over the tops of his combat boots. Jack removes the earmuffs, setting them down. Despite that he knows he ought to leave, a question erupts from his lips.

“Why didn't you tell me about Katie?” Gabe asks. Jack looks down and shrugged.

“Couldn't trust you. Didn't figure, if you were telling the truth, you'd remember her anyway.”

“I remember her now. You know I remembered some things.”

“Didn't want her in danger, all the same.” Jack reiterates. “Do you blame me?”

Gabriel looks down as well, smirking faintly. “No. I suppose not. Do you trust me now?” He asks the question hesitantly, and he knows it isn't a question that Jack wants to answer. Those sapphire eyes turn back at him, and he sets the gun down, despite that he's just finished loading it.

“That depends, don't it?” The Soldier's voice is so familiar, grizzled and hard, but Gabriel enjoys it all the same.

“Depends on what?” the wraith asks, investing despite that he knows he shouldn't.

“Depends on what you're asking me to trust. To do a job? Sure. To get intel? Sure. With my life?... No. You spent years trying to kill me. I wouldn't be surprised if there's still a bit of you in there that wants to see the job done.”

“I remember more every day, Jack.” Gabriel protests, losing some of his composure slightly. “It isn't making me any more vengeful.”

“Not yet. How much have you remembered of Overwatch- or Blackwatch, or _us_ or any of those things that happened, Gabe?” _Gabe._

“...Well none of it, I guess.” He replies, trying and failing to sound smooth, the raspiness to his voice a reminder that despite the change of outfit and the feeding, he's still Reaper. Jack is facing him now, a foot or so away.

“Exactly. You don't remember anything that lead us up to where we are right now. The only things you have right now are those... those pleasant little thoughts that got us in this mess to begin with. I think, for the time being, you should stop caring whether or not I trust you, or whether or not I approve of you being here. It isn't up to me what happens to you, and I sure as hell ain't the same man in your memories.”

Gabe's eyes divert. Somehow, the sentiment stings, as he realized he was hoping for more, despite his strong conviction to put Jack out of his mind. Jack sees the hurt, however briefly it slips through Gabe's eyes before Reaper walls it off again. Jack starts to walk off, leaving the loaded gun, and Gabe realized he was loading it specifically for him to use... Jack's back is turned as he walks away, and the shade assesses the moment quickly. Jack left that loaded gun there knowing that if Gabe wanted to, he could take it and turn around and use it on him... Yet. He didn't. Was it a deliberate test, or proof that Jack actually _did_ trust him with his life?

“Jack?” Gabe calls to the man as he leaves. The Soldier stops, listening over his shoulder. “What was it like... at the end, I mean... For us?” It's a question Gabe's had for a while now, and if anyone knows the answer, Jack does. Jack pauses, debating over his words before he finally replies.

“It was a mirage, Gabe. Nothin' else.”

His voice is defeated and cold, and it tugs at Gabe's heart in a way that upsets him. He looks away from Jack as soon as the words are finished. His hand settles on the loaded pistol, and in a rapid fire there after, unloads the entire clip into the target dummy's head across the way. By the time he looks back, Jack has gone. _A mirage._

 

Later, Gabriel lounges in his room when the comm device on the door goes off, similar to the ones in Figi, loud, interrupting his thoughts and stealing his attention. Lazily, his head turns to the side, regarding it from his place on the comfortable couch with its place in front of the holo-screen. He's been channel-surfing everything recent, everything relevant, and trying to catch up on what he's missed in the last few months.

“It's open.” He replies, his voice still somewhat hallowed and raspy, frustrated from earlier. Jesse enters with a brief reply.

“'Lo” He says, immediately taking in the room. “Nice place they set you up with here. You doin' alright?” he asks, coming around so that he can meet Gabe's stare. The man's hood is down,and he's lounging, boots off, Black claws of his toes relatively small since he's fed so recently, yet, even now, Jesse can see the small points on the end of each toenail, black tipped.

“Well enough.” Gabriel groans, motioning the couch. Jesse sits, removing his hand and knocking one of his ankles up onto his knee as he leans back.

“They tell you what you're doin' yet?”

“Not quite. I'm not actually sure they know what they're doing with me. Jack said something about jobs.”

“ _Talked to him, did ya?”_ Jesse seems impressed. Gabriel snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Only so long as it took for him to notice me there and leave.” He wants to deny what Jack said earlier, or that it bothered him, but it's difficult. Jesse can see the look in Gabe's eyes from where he sits, and sighs.

“Mind if I smoke in here?” He asks, and Gabe shrugs, supposing it wouldn't kill him any more than anything else. So, the gunslinger slips out a cigar and sets to lighting it up. “...How ya memories doin' ya?”

“Did someone _send_ you here to ask me, Jesse?”

“Wh- No. I'm jus' askin'. You don't seem happy.” But did he ever? Was Gabriel ever actually happy? More often than not, he was dour and miserable. Gabe conveys that in a small, sidelong look that he gives to the cowboy, who shrugs back at him. Gabriel relents.

“They're not doing me any favors.” he replies bleakly.

“Mmn. I s'pose Jack isn't either, then?”

“Why does that matter to you, McCree? I was under the impression you weren't all that fond of how he was treating me in the first place?”

“I'm not, but, he should've changed by now. He agreed to let you come here. He...'ogled' you. He watched you fight. Watched you work with us for almost two months. Figure somethin' woulda changed.” and, for a long moment, Gabe was quiet, looking down, sighing through his nostrils.

“I think it has, Jesse, but I don't think it's the same... I... Asked him about it.”

“What'd'ya mean?”He asked, taking a drag of his cigar before glancing down the length of it at Gabe. He pulled it free of his lips and offered it, but the shade shook his head.

Reaching up to comb his fingers through his dark hair, his fingernails lightly pried at his scalp. “I told myself there was no future with me, and maybe not with him either. He and I can't just go back to the way we were. I'm here for Talon now... To get even for what they did to me. Had it in my head that I was going to put him out of my mind. Well... I ran into him in the training room. Asked him some things. He asked me how much I remembered... He pointed out that I didn't remember any of the things that got us to where we are now. He seemed to suggest that... Whatever I've forgotten- whatever happened, was something that couldn't be undone. Like it was some... All-forsaking thing that meant he and I could never go back to the way we were. Said that all I have right now are the... _friendly, happy_ prerequisites, I guess.” He almost growled out the words, loathing them.

“You don't think that's what they are?” Jesse asks, head faintly tilting at the man. He can tell that Gabriel is both troubled and confused by his apparent conviction to push Jack away, and how effortlessly, without even meaning to, Jack has crumbled that conviction altogether... Even if he was somehow trying to reaffirm it. Idly, his ankles cross out in front of him, spurs clicking, and his arms cross, cigar propped between his lips. “And if it really came down to it... Is that what you'd want? For things to... Ah... _Go back to the way they were?_ ”

“Hell. I don't know, Jesse. The memories I have right now are... Good. Almost too good to be true. They usually happen when I sleep, but when I wake up... It's this nightmare that is real life. That, things aren't as simple as they were then, and that there's still so much I don't know. I can barely stand it.” Reaper seethes. “For all I know, we hated each other at the end. When I asked him what it was like, he said it was a _mirage._ ” And he can see Jesse visibly wince with that final word.

_“Ouch._ That's a bit harsh I think. I wouldn't say that myself. I'd say it was like... Paradise lost, or somethin'. What do you figure about him?”

“I can't figure out _anything._ That's part of the frustration. He says he's changed, and that isn't who he is anymore. I'm sure, neither am I... But... Part of me wants to still believe he's in there. I hope he is.”

“That's funny.” Jesse says after a moment, chuckling, smoke rolling past his lips as he says so, and Gabe's head snaps his way, growling.

“ _Don't chastise me, McCree, I don't have to tell you any of this. Maybe I shouldn't-”_ Reaper was so ready to lash out, but Jesse put his hands up like he was calming a horse.

“Relax, Reyes. That ain't what I meant.” All at once, Jesse's belt lights up with a small device, beeping, and he reaches down to unfasten the small handheld item. A yellow light flashes above the device, along with a scrolling line of text, which his eyes read over effortlessly. With a button press a second later, he smiles, darkens the tool, and clips it back on. His eyes meet Gabe's. “Come on. The training room is free.” He says, moving to stand. Gabe glances back at the holo-screen, realizing it's not showing anything he cares to see anymore, and shuts it off. It takes him a minute or so, but he finds socks, and eventually the same combat boots he's been wearing around for a few weeks now. They're worn in and comfortable at this point. Jesse can't help but notice the mask, iconic and terrifying, sitting on his dresser from the doorway of the bedroom while he waits for Gabriel to be ready. Then, as soon as he is, both head out, and Gabe habitually pulls his hood up over his head. The lights overhead, fluorescent yellow and occasionally blue, mark the paths as they walk, the sound of their boots echoing down the hallways, announcing their approach to anyone else coming their way.

 

They're about half way there, walking in quiet when Gabe finally breaks the silence.

“What did you mean?”

“'Bout what?” The gunslinger asks.

“You said it was funny.”

“Oh... right.” He pauses, and after a moment, is pried again.

“ _Well?_ ”

“Well...” He falls quiet as they pass a few other people in the hall, and finally steps into the door of the training room. “I didn't mean anythin' by it. I just meant... You said that you said 'that part of you still wanted to believe he was in there.' That, you 'hoped he was'... That's funny to me.”

“ _Why?_ ” Gabriel needed to know, but Jesse was headed into the gun range, paying him no mind, striding casually along and forcing the shade to follow him. Approaching a side panel along one wall, he's able to navigate the controls of the room easily enough to set it up exactly the way he likes- moving, holo-hard-light targets, blue, green and yellow. This must have been why he wanted the range all to themselves, so that no one else could interrupt them. But, Gabriel's growing frustrated, and he can't stand being ignored. So, as Jesse takes aim at the targets one by one with his Peacekeeper, Gabriel growls. All at once, he's moving, smoke twisting, swirling over and over until it folds in upon itself and tightens, and a shotgun materializes in his hand. He's standing beside the man, arm outstretched to his side. Without any warning to the cowboy, he unleashes three shots into the targets without even looking at them, eyes primed upon the man in his hat. The targets disintegrate, then, as the collapsed pieces land on the floor , they dissolve entirely.

 

“ _Why, McCree?_ ” Reaper growls, smoke seething out of his eyes and mouth as his frustration mounts. But, Jesse doesn't seem afraid, or even concerned. Instead, he smiles, turning to face the shade, still holding his shotgun, whose shots still faintly echo off of the walls of the center. Jesse sighs, shaking his head, wondering why Gabe can't just let it go... He knows the man must be hurting for Jack _badly_ if it affects him this way.

 

“Because... He said the _exact_ same thing to me, about you.”n

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for reading! I enjoy writing this story for you, so please spread word of it so that others can come enjoy it with us!


	20. Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Gore. Catastrophe.

~

 

It's mid-morning on a Wednesday, and Gabriel's recovering from injections the day prior. As usual, his body feels like shit and every muscle aches with fatigue, but at this point, it's just part of the program, and the pain he feels is familiar to him now. It doesn't slow his step as he approaches Walcott's office. He can't guess the point of the sudden, abrupt meeting, but its inconvenience is overshadowed by how important it must be for Walcott to call Gabriel out of training with his team for this.

Alas, his team was a killing machine at this point, and they'd operate fine for a little while without him in the training room. Though his flirtations with Jack had been at first a distraction, over the last few days they were something that relieved him and renewed him after a painstaking day of whatever the SEP threw at them. The impact of the attack seemed to solidify their budding relationship like cement, and now, it a constant want in the back of Gabriel's mind. Yet, the days were exhausting, and often, they didn't get through more than a little bit of kissing before passing our or being forced to wander off. All for the best, Gabe supposed, given how much trouble being caught only a few days before had caused.

Minutes later, he's standing at attention in the Colonel's office, listening as the man reads him off numbers and statistics that are mostly foreign to him.

“My point here is that we're dealing with more than Canada did. They've got units now; the omnics; they're calling them bastions, and some tripod based units that are being pushed out in the dozens. As much as I wanted to wait, I can't. Your last injections were yesterday, and we need you on this. You have solid strategy and a quick eye, Reyes, we need you, and your team, on the ground.”

“Sir- my team is still recovering.” Gabriel says, trying to buy them time, taken slightly aback by the sudden reveal.

“I know that, and so does the rest of SEP. I'll send your boys back to their quarters for rest as soon as you're out of here. You and a few other teams ship out tomorrow night. You'll arrive on scene Friday morning, and with any luck, we can start making a difference in this war. This is yours, whether you care for it or not.” Walcott says, extending his hand out to Reyes, within it, revealing another small, black box, and inside, a Captain's medal. Another rank. Another chance to redeem Henrique and his mother. Another chance to end the omnics. _Finally_.

He's been working his ass off for this, and now, it's here. It's right in front of him, sitting in a little black box at the extended, callused hand of his superior.

Official permission to tear something apart.

Official permission to kill something that has offended him _personally._

Gabriel can't help the small, faint smile that curls his lips.

“It's an honor, Sir.” He nods, and soon, Walcott pins the golden emblem onto his chest, removing his TC badge from its place, allowing Gabriel to keep it as he dropped it into the Soldier's hand. Moments later, he was dismissed, and headed back towards his room, but not before stopping at Jack's door for a brief, congratulatory rendezvous before slipping back to his own room. Jack wasn't there yet, but Gabriel waited, lingering in an almost too casual lean against the blond's door frame until he arrived. Then, without hesiation, he shoved Jack through the door nearly the second it was open. It felt good, he thought, despite the risks involved, despite the costs it was sure to have... Knowing what he was going to do, knowing how close he was to having that revenge, to fulfilling what he had begun to feel like was his purpose in life... And then there was Jack- his gorgeous, blond, perfect, dirty little secret. The way Jack's lips trailed over his torso and neck made Gabriel feel like he was on fire, electric, more alive than ever before... Like a drug to which Gabriel had gotten himself willingly addicted, and he couldn't get enough. Violence and this; it was why he was here... And Jack would be there with him until the end, he was sure, even if it hadn't been spoken, he knew. He could feel it somehow, in his bones.

 

Together they would show the omnics the fury of man.

 

~

Gabriel stirs awake in his bed, that memory floating through his head, the idea of slaughter and the taste of Jack, an old memory on his tongue. Now, according to Mercy, he was very nearly one of those omnics. Talon had done this to him. He was going after them. He couldn't simply wait around here for the _monkey_ to decide where to put him. He needed to move, and he didn't need Overwatch before... He surely didn't need them for this- did he? In minutes, Gabriel was on his feet, stretching his body and letting the smoke curl off of him like an old friend, flexing his shadowed arms enough to make his spine pop a little. Being this healthy felt... odd, but good, so much so that it was almost easy for him to ignore the pain of his condition. He ghosted away to clean himself, then wraithed into his clothing. Dark black jeans, a black belt, black, fitted tank top and that familiar, dark hoodie. His hair was combed, face groomed, and feeling as good as he did, he cared at least a little about how he looked. At the moment, he looked more or less normal, if one could ignore the drifts of pollution that drifted up and off of him. As usual, his extra arms were locked inside, kept away from view. There was a familiar confidence in his step when he emerged from his room and headed along the halls towards the small cafe, sure to be crowded at this morning hour.

He wasn't too particular about his drink, and soon, sat at a table in the far back of the lounge, more or less in the dark, his back turned to the moderately crowded room. There was a napkin on the small round table in front of him, and he set to writing on it with a borrowed pen, idle thoughts, plans for how to dismantle Talon, a solo based brainstorming session to make him think.

However, it would seem he wasn't meant to get very far, as soon, a few steps sounded in the area just behind him. There was a voice, perplexing, confusing, one he knew, ordering up a coffee from one of the staff and not one of the automated machines, some kind of detailed mix that Gabe himself would have been embarrassed to order in public. But the voice was familiar, too much so. Not Katie, not Angela or Genji or Jesse, or even Jack, or any of the voices he would have expected to hear here. Jovial, casual, undaunted, accented... Haunting, in so many ways. Footsteps echoed, and slowly came up closer to him, behind him, stopping just a few feet from his seat. His stomach tightened and his heart stilled uncomfortably in his chest.

“Mmnh” It was a sort of laugh. “So... You _are_ alive after all.” The laugh came again, and Gabriel's head suddenly twisted, his stomach knotting more tightly, glaring over his shoulder as shadows jumped off of him in surprise. Hearing her was one thing, but seeing her...

Purple fingertips with bright blue nails, her half-shaved head with it's luminescent magenta wiring, her dyed hair, caramel skin the same as his own, neon lips, violet, candy-like eyes, fashionable attire, strange lack of shoes, devil-may-care attitude.

“ _Hello, Gabe.”_

 

_Sombra._

 

Everything froze. Fear and confusion paralyzed the man's body, petrifying the blood in his veins and making him seriously question his sanity, or perhaps how awake he was. Was he hallucinating? Was it Angela's drugs working on him? Was this another dream? Another, bizarre nightmare? Instinctively, a gun materialized into Gabriel's hand, his lips pulling back into a snarl, baring pearly whites like a cornered animal, brows tightened and his features darkened. Reaper emerged like a beast stirred from its den.

 

_How could she be here? In Overwatch?_

_Why was she here? To kill him? Them?_

_How did she even get in?_

 

“ _Oh come on, miho.”_ She chides lightly, daring to take a step, but suddenly Reaper is on his feet, and there's a shotgun aimed at her head. All at once, the other people in the cafe have ducked, yelped and scattered, and many of them flee the area outright, but amongst the scrambling and screaming, Sombra doesn't move. “You should have seen this coming, Reyes- really... You were so smart- so-”

“ _What are you doing here, Sombra?”_ Reaper snarls, holding back from pulling the trigger. Slowly she puts her hands up, smiling sweetly.

“Isn't it _obvious_ , _Gabrielito?_ ”

But no, it isn't. He's confused, outraged, and somehow scared. She steps back, hands still up slightly, pacing towards the counter where her coffee was abandoned, and the last of the staff scatter out of the cafe. “You think they're running from me... That's funny, Reaper. I expected you, out of everyone there at Talon to connect the dots first.” She sips from her drink, looking back to face him, his bewildered, angry stare. Again, she laughs, but he growls.

“ _Stop the games. What are you doing here?”_ He snaps. The hacker sighs and looks down, pacing back to him.

“I'm not here to hurt you, Gabriel. Or anyone.” She comes to sit in the chair across from Gabe's, even further in the dark, and he turns to follow her with his gun. Her figure is equal parts shadow and glowing, fuchsia mechanics, including her eyes which gleam out at him from the shade. “You asked me once... A long time ago, what I got out of helping Talon... Do you remember what I said?” She asks, casually leaning back in her seat, coffee pinched between her two palms. His gun lowers as he watches her, but he is not confident enough to sit. Quietly, he recalls that conversation.

“I asked you what you got out of helping Talon. No money, no information you didn't already have... You said that I was wrong to assume you were there for something... You said you were there because you loved the idea of taking down Overwatch-”

“No.” She corrected, cutting him off. “It is true I wasn't there for some _thing_ , Gabe. It's true, I like the idea of putting my... skills to good use, but I told you I was there to help take down a big organization. You _assumed_ I meant Overwatch.”

“I... don't...” He tried to make sense of it, and she smiled.

“I came to Talon for some _one,_ Gabriel...

...You.”

 

Realization begins to dawn on the wraith, his chest swelling nervously as she speaks.

“When I was a girl, I lost my parents to the Omnic crisis. I watched heroes like you and Jack defend the world when no one else could. I watched you bring peace back to us. Your organization helped me... Housed me, fed me, at least until I started using my own talents to find my own answers. When I saw what Talon was doing, and what Deadlock, Los Muertos- all the others were doing... They fed on the chaos. They fed on people like me. People with nothing left. You think I joined Talon to help end Overwatch... But that couldn't be farther than the truth. I have been one of Overwatch for years now. Maybe more. Their... informant-”

“ _It was you...”_ Reaper growled, equal parts offended and astounded somehow. She smiled deviously, the little double agent that she was. “How can you possibly expect anyone here to trust you-”

“ _Me, Reyes?_ I wasn't the one trying to kill them. Don't you wonder how it was they knew to lure you to an abandoned city to try and capture you? Didn't you wonder _why_ it was you never saw Jack in the facility? _My tech._ ” She taps the wires on the side of her skull. “Or, how about the fact that it took Talon two days to locate you after your attack in Moscow? They could have been there sooner if I hadn't thrown them off your trail. The cuffs they put on you in the airship when you escaped? Prevented you from simply... ghosting away? _Mine._ The tech in your cloak, that helps keep you together? _All mine, Cabron. All borrowed technology I hacked_.”

Gabriel's gun evaporates, and in the wake of what he's learning, he sinks into the chair he had been in before, sagging back into it, staring at her, shaking his head, trying to find inconsistencies in her story. “The cloak has been with me since the beginning, you couldn't have... manipulated it then-”

“No. I hadn't. But they kept you well fed in the beginning, don't you remember? Tell me, Gabriel, if you were constantly well fed, would you have ever noticed that your cloak suppressed your nanites or not? You can suppress them well enough alone when you're fed. You don't even need it when you are. Case and point, look at you now. You don't _need_ the coat now to look normal. You didn't need it then, either. I came on the scene a few years after they... acquired you. When I made the edit, you barely noticed... It wasn't until you fed less that it became noticeable.”

“If you were the informant, why did you stop talking to Overwatch after they rescued Mercy?”

“I had to. You know as well as I that Talon isn't made up of a bunch of morons. They suspected there was a mole. I had to lay low, be inconspicuous. For a while, it had to look like Overwatch really didn't know what was going on... So I had to stop talking to them.”

“Angela said that Winston was the only one who knew you-”

“Winston is the only one who knows my real name, Gabriel... The others...” She laughed. “They still have no idea... So they couldn't very well tell you- could they-”

“ _I tortured them, trying to get a name, Sombra.”_ Reaper growls venomously.

“Mmh, so you did. That's on you, I'm afraid. You know, reviews are mixed that torture even _works.”_ and this makes the violent wraith growl in his seat, still fuming somewhat. He's tempted to ask if she'd like to test whether torture works or not, _personally._ She smirks faintly, obviously pleased that she pulled this over on him so thoroughly. He wants his mask, and hates that she can see him now; especially like this, so casual, so... human. “Come on.” She says, leaning forward. “Drink your drink before it gets cold. The others want to talk to you before things get too... Crazy. We decided it was as good a time as any for me to come clean with you. You're one of us now, aren't you? We needed to make sure you wouldn't run back to Talon...”

“ _I still don't like you.”_ He seethes, but she chuckles.

“Oh, of course you don't. I wouldn't expect anything less, _Edgelord_. Come on, they're holding a meeting in a few minutes. You need to be there.” The hacker eventually moves to stand, smiles at him and begins to pace away. He says nothing, hunched forward over his drink, staring down at the reflective surface of the table, staring back at himself. Glancing back over his shoulder, he sees that she's standing there at the door to the cafe, waiting for him, clicking through a small holo-screen projected by her hand as she waits, making it clear that she's not leaving without him. This makes him groan and he rolls his eyes, shoving himself up from his seat and snatching his drink. Free hand throws his hood up, suddenly needing it on, and a pair of dark shades are flicked open from his pocket and shoved on, hiding his eyes from view, inconspicuously stashing his napkin-plans. As they exit the cafe, a mildly startled group of people seem to assess the two before hurriedly, almost excitedly rushing back into the coffee lounge, eager to satisfy their caffeine addictions. He follows along side her if only because she clearly knows where the meeting is to be held, and by the way she walks around, barely looking up from her holo, it's clear that she's been here for a long time. For a moment, Gabriel wonders if she was one of the orphans housed in Fiji... But he's too taken aback by her being here to be brave enough to ask. They grow quiet, and his thoughts are allowed to wander.

 

“Sombra...” He says suddenly, eyes popping as he connects the dots between everything that's happened between then and now. She hums in acknowledgment, and he continues. “Moscow... You knew about Moscow... You gave Widowmaker some things to help me-” But suddenly she's chuckling, almost choking on her drink, she glances at him, her smile widening as she beams at him. _Oh no._

“Oh. _Oh yes. That_.” Her tone is suggestive, and Gabe feels the color drain from his cheeks with embarrassment. Inside his combat boots, his toes curl uncomfortably, his steps grow uneven, and he struggles to keep up with her, using larger, awkward strides to keep up as his mind tries to register what she's saying.

“Did you _know_... You-”

Sombra _erupts_ into laughter.

“Did I _know? Haha.”_ The volume escalates, so loud that it echoes off the wall, making Gabriel shrink. “ _Did I KNOW?”_ Her giggles bring her to tears slowly, causing her to snort, and then snort again. At this point, she could make a scene, if anyone else was in the hall. They'd _hear_ her. Gabe struggles to silence her, placing his left hand on her shoulder and tightening his grasp, quietly urging her.

“ _Stop. Sombra. Don't-”_

_“What, don't want anyone to know about your little fling? M_ _uy caliente, si, Papi?”_ Sombra roars with laughter now, tears forming small rivers on her cheeks. _He wants to strangle this little bitch._

 _“SOMBRA._ ” he howls, shoving her into the wall of the hallway, smoke drifting off of him as he leers over her, growling at her. Candy eyes flash deviously up at him and she laughs, unable to stop the broken dams that run down either cheek.

“Yes. I knew about that _. Saw the whole thing, matter of fact. Front row seat._ Don't you worry, _Gabe,_ your little _baguette fiesta_ is safe with me.” She shrugs his hand off of her and then casually, practically dances down the hall sipping her drink, trying to stifle her giggles. She may as well have been skipping.

This is somehow worse than being in a speedo with Mercy. Despite being fully clothed, Gabriel feels naked all the same, bared and exposed, inwardly and outwardly cringing as the theatrical hacker all but oozes hilarity with her words and her tone, as she giggles at him. It's like she's remembering the entire thing when she looks at him, and he wants nothing more than to curl up and _die._

Gabe's pretty sure he never wants to hear the word's 'baguette' and 'fiesta' in the same sentence _ever_ again in his entire life.

 

Minutes later, they arrive at the command center, a room of many screens and desks, where he can see Winston and even Tracer, standing together, facing one large holo on the far wall, discussing something between themselves as Sombra leads Gabriel into a room along one of the sides. It gives him a chance to recover from his embarrassment out in the hallway if only marginally enough to compose himself. It's a long, rectangular room with a table and a screen, meant for debriefings and the like, with white chairs and a lacquered black table, white and grey walls, and potted palms in every corner. Angela is already here, along with Jack, whose very presence makes Gabe's stomach turn. Ana reveals herself minutes later, emerging through the door behind them as they come to take their seats. Gabriel naturally takes a seat one space away from everyone else, and no one seems even minutely surprised. While the others talk quietly among themselves, Gabriel's quiet, glancing at the holo-screen on the wall as it sits unused for the moment. His coffee becomes more interesting as his mind tumbles over all of the things Sombra has just told him; that she was with Overwatch this whole time, giving them information, trying to help them get _him_. Trying to undo Talon. Talon was strong, and smart, it was true. They had relied on Reaper to do quite a lot of things, and with Doomfist locked up and Widow dead, they were now down three of their core leaders. Presumably, they might promote Sombra to be more... integral to the company, if they didn't catch on sooner or later. Did they know now? Was she going back?

What was it like, growing up without a family, growing up, watching them? He wanted to know. How could one go from what she had to doing all that she had- and for what purpose? To be a hero? To brave becoming one of Talon just to make sure that those plans worked?

Gabriel hated to admit it, but a new level of respect had budded within him at the realization... Thoroughly impressed by what the hacker had accomplished, more or less on her own. Perhaps later, he could better understand her, if she didn't irritate him so very much.

Finally, the door opened again, and Winston entered, Tracer gone somewhere else apparently.

“Ah, we're ready.” Angela says, smiling and coming to sit, as does Jack, who was standing. Winston sits at the head of the table, and finally they address Gabriel.

“So, I see you've met... Ah. Our informant.” the Gorilla says, straightening his glasses. “I had hoped there was a better way we could do it, but she assured me that she'd find a way-”

“I did, and he's here. There's no problems, see? We're fine.” She throws a fake smile at Gabe, who inwardly seethes.

“Ah.. ha. Good. Then. Lets get to it then, shall we?”

“Right.” Ana says, turning her seat somewhat to face Gabriel. “This meeting is about you.”

“ _Me?”_ He asked, quite thoroughly done with discussing himself, or things related to him, at least enough for a month, but here, it doesn't seem like he has a choice.

“You've been wanting to know what you're doing here. We can discuss that with you now. Now that you're here, you're one of us, and in order for you to work with us, you need to know the circumstances we're operating under.”

“Circumstances? What do you mean?”

“Recovering you was a calculated move, Reyes.” Jack explains, his head tilting as he regards him from across the table, a ways down.

“We knew that Talon had leadership, and we needed to know the particulars of it. When Sombra agreed to join us and infiltrate herself with Talon, she was able to give us more information. For example, we learned that you, along with Widow, along with the man they call Doomfist, were all part of that... council, if you will. We knew that with Doomfist locked away, you would be easier to target... Moreover, many of us began to suspect your identity.” He adds.

Ana takes over, and Gabriel quietly finishes off the last of his coffee, but he feels like he might need more. “Angela, myself, and even Jack admitted that your movements, your choice of weapon... It all seemed... Familiar. Some of the things you'd say or do when we fought gave you away. Then, Angela revealed what she had done shortly after the explosion that should have killed you. From within Talon, Sombra was able to identify you properly...

But... We tried to rewind. We needed to know _how_ this could have happened. As you were told before, you were one of us. You were a _major_ part of Overwatch. You lead Blackwatch. While some were quick to blame your betrayal on jealousy and the need for revenge, or a psychological... “Disability,” others of us, those of us who knew you best, were more skeptical. It didn't make sense to us that you, our friend and family of so many years could, or had anything to do with this. When it emerged that you were Reaper himself, we had to do more. After the explosion, we noticed a surge of ex-blackwatch soldiers taking up arms with Talon. We at first assumed that was because you, as the leader of Blackwatch, recruited them from us to join you. But... Now, we're not so sure of that.”

Angela leans forward. “There was suitable reason to suggest that perhaps you were manipulated, within Blackwatch, to turn you against us from the inside. Some kind of... Conditioning.”

“Conditioning?” He echoes, curious and needing to know more.

“Mental reconditioning, Reyes. Something in your day to day life, something to trick you into seeing things or thinking the way you wouldn't otherwise. Something to deliberately pit you against Overwatch. We now believe that Talon existed long before the fall of Overwatch, and that somehow, they infiltrated us, our ranks, to get to you, and subvert us from within.”

“... Okay? So what then? What does that have to do with me? I don't remember anything-”

“Not yet, Gabriel, but you will. Moreover? You know Talon. You know how they work, how they function. With your help, and Sombra's eyes, we can prove that you weren't... In control, more or less. We can prove that Talon had... more or less brainwashed you.”

“Brainwashed-?”

“Gabe.” Jack said, meeting his stare. “I knew you better than anyone. But then? At the end? You weren't yourself. You were someone else. It's like someone else had gotten in your head and rattled things around. It's like you'd lost yourself to Reaper, and couldn't get back. We wanted to prove that Talon made that happen somehow.”

“No one would ever believe my word.” Gabe protests. “Why would the UN believe someone like me?” he asks, and Winston is quick to reply.

“No. They won't, and maybe they _shouldn't_ , but... Talon is an organization, just like we are. They will have proof, somewhere. Somewhere in their ranks, their files. Somewhere away from the prying eyes of Sombra. We need your help to find it.”

“My help... You expect me to go back to Talon?” He asks, brows knitting. “They think I'm dead...”

“Yes. That gives us a clear advantage, don't you think? They won't be looking for you, and with Sombra covering their eyes, you can look for it uninterrupted. We _need_ you to remain anonymous, because as soon as they realize you're alive, and that you're with us...”

“There will be hell to pay. Real hell, Gabriel.” Sombra breaks in, glancing at him. “Do you think they'll be content to just try bombing you? No. They'll know now that wont kill you. They'll come for us. They'll sacrifice civilians. They'll send-.. Someone. For you.”

“ _Someone?”_ he asks, noticing the way Sombra suddenly cut off her own words. “Who?”

“Who can say?” She asks, seeming incidentally deceptive. “Doomfist maybe. Who knows.”

“He's in prison. Has been for years. You really think they'll get him out when He's being guarded by Helix? They're the most advanced security on the planet.”

“We have reason to believe that Talon may be planning to _free_ Doomfist.”

“And if they do, he's coming for you, Gabriel. If they find out you're here. We don't have a lot of time. We need to get you working on this as soon as possible.”

“With proof, we can clear your name, perhaps even prove you innocent, or at least-”

“ _Insane.”_ Gabriel snaps aggressively. They'll declare me insane if you try to tell them I wasn't in control of myself when I killed all those people.” Gabe interjects, growling some as the idea of being locked up in a mental institution grates on his nerves.

“Reyes.” Winston interrupts. “Would you really want them to prove you were sane? If they do... If they find you guilty, they will execute you.”

“ _How?”_ he seems in disbelief.

“A strong EMP to nullify your nanites, making it impossible for you to shift away, or make it impossible for you to heal. Or, perhaps they'll poison you, or inject you with something even more vicious and see how it does. Or maybe if none of those work, they'll settle with starvation. My point here, Reyes, is that what _ever_ they do to execute you, none of it will be quiet, humane, or painless. They'll make you _suffer_ before they let you go out.” And though he's thought about it before, it's horrifying to hear it murmured off of the scientist's lips. It's clear to him that Winston has spent a _lot_ of time researching ways to kill him... Perhaps for good reason.

The meeting ends shortly after that. Ana tells him that they'll be organizing a mission in the next few days, and until then, he should work on familiarizing himself with the facility, resting up and catching up on all of the most recent news, as it were. Gabriel returns to his room, stopping by Jesse's room, as it's right next door, to try and talk, but the cowboy is out- deployed on a mission, apparently, not due back for some time yet. So, reluctantly, he retires to his quarters, quiet and alone.

 

~

 

Friday morning. Gabriel's never been in a dropship like this before. It's stealthed, but from the inside, it's quiet. All the soldiers are lined up, sitting in belted seats in full gear, pulse rifles in hand, nerves firing raw venom through their veins. Gabriel sits next to Jack, who's staring down at his hands, clutched tightly onto his gun. Gabe can see the caution in the blond's blue eyes.

“You scared?” he asks quietly, trying not to disturb the cabin, which is otherwise quiet. They're a few minutes out, and some of the Soldiers are praying, meditating, or doing whatever calms them the most. At the moment, their illicit romance doesn't matter to anyone.

“I would be stupid not to be.” Jack says, glancing back at Gabriel. “Tripods, Gabe? I've never seen bots like that before. Usually wheels or... Treads... Let alone sentient ones.”

“Conscious and sentient are different things, Jack.”

“You don't think they're sentient, Gabe?”

“I think they're operated like a hive. I think a small few of them are advanced... Not the ones we'll be fighting today. These are just bots. Just like the turrets in training. Just... Stay with me, obey my orders and you'll be fine. I'm not going to let any of you guys die if I can help it.” He says this part loud enough that the rest of his team can hear, and they nod approvingly.

“Gabe... If it's true that the omnics are becoming sentient-”

“Jack, clever programming is not sentience. They're a glitch in the system. Something that needs to be weeded out and corrected.”

Jack seems placated by this answer, so he nods.

Despite that reasoning, Gabriel can't push down the hate he has for them, and how he wants to see them all slaughtered... Like cattle.

A red light comes on overhead, signaling a drop soon. The ship descends quickly, dropping altitude almost to the point to make them feel weightless, but everyone's belted in, and keeps their place, their hands tight on their rifles. Gabe speaks up.

“This is us, boys. Remember your training. Remember to follow my instructions. Stick with your partner. Do, or do not. As an old movie said, _there is no try_. If they're going to take you down, you take ten of those fuckers with you before you go. Our mission here is to fight our way to the subway, and detonate the facility there. We're to break the tracks, and prevent them from moving between Chicago and Indianapolis this way. Understood? You get split up, remember your comms, and remember what you're capable of. Don't do anything stupid. Don't try to be a hero. Stick to the plan from our debrief. If you're pinned down, call for help. We have two other teams landing with us, and two more already on the ground... Most of all... Remember what these fuckers did to us. Make them pay for it, brothers.” He moves to stand, gripping a hanging bar to keep himself steady.

“SIR, YES SIR.” They chorus loudly.

Seconds later, they've landed, and the back door of the ship drops open with a heavy thud. The team charges out, guns raised, heads down, crouching as they run forward. For the moment, they're grouped together, but eyes are in every direction keeping an eye out.

Chicago is a ghost town. It's the first time any of them have seen it in person. Everything seems grey, hazy, fog made entirely of dust and debris from the attacks. Buildings rest in pieces in every direction. Others are shot through with lines of turret fire, and others have holes gaping through the sides of them made by larger, more potent weapons. Then, there's something else... lines of melted metal and stone, cut right into the road, through cars, through bodies and military apparatus. The smell makes one of their team throw up immediately. Gabriel doesn't turn to see who, but he can hear the sound as it echoes off of the distant building across a street. Nothing stirs. Carefully, they step over bodies... Civilians and army alike. Some of them are in so many pieces that Gabe can't properly identify what parts went to whom. He glances beside him, to see Jack. The blond's face has gone steely and cold, venomous and dark, like the night of the attacks. There is nothing glorious about war, nothing righteous about wanting to charge into it, but for the moment, all any of them can think is about bringing the machines responsible for this to a bitter end.

Gabriel spots it then, a set of stairs that head into a darkened subway system, but it's unguarded, which automatically screams ' _trap_ ' in his mind. There are bodies on the stairs that already suggest it's so. His eyes dart over the area, recalling the map he studied the two days beforehand in his preparation for this attack. He knew that from this angle, the street ran perpendicular to the tracks, which headed south. He knew that all the hubs of these tracks started at the Airport, roughly a mile away from them. Their job wasn't to stop all the tracks, but this one. The airport had been more or less reduced to rubble, or heavily fortified by omnics, making it impossible to get to safely. That was why he and the other teams were cutting off the other routes further down. Right now, they had the element of surprise.

“ _Orders, Sir?”_ Val whispers as they crouch in the cover of an overturned truck.

“ _We can't go through the stairs. It's a set up. Once the other teams start lighting off their attacks, the Omnics will be on high alert. They'll only be distracted for an instant before they catch onto our plan, so we have to be fast. I want you and Ryan to go down- south, through the buildings about a mile, as quick and quiet as you can. I want you to take one of the bombs with you.”_

_“...S-Sir. We need the bombs for the tracks, don't we?”_

_“ Don't fucking question me, Val. Take one of the bombs, That leaves us two.”_ This automatically makes everyone a little nervous, because they automatically know that this means Reyes intends to get close enough to the tracks that they wont need three of them to blow them up. Technically, they only needed one, but getting that far in was difficult and risky... But judging by the bodies, taking the 'safe route' hadn't been working either. Gabriel knew what he had to do, and it was just the sort of thing that made him right for this job. “ _Jack. With me. Eddie, Merrick, when I say so, I want you to make a distraction at the stairs. Start with a grenade, but do NOT enter. Bait them to you. If they're dumb enough to come for you, you pump as much ammo into them as you can. Val, once you reach the mark a mile down, notify me. You'll place the bomb wherever it happens to be, on the street, preferably. They'll sense the distraction, and head for you. You'll have enough time to run, but they will all be drawn to you. They'll think you have the bomb for the tracks...”_

 _“But we're taking them.”_ Jack said at once, already catching the details for the plan. Gabriel smirks and nods.

“ _We'll use one to break right through the street, and the other to blow the tracks. We might have one or two stragglers to deal with, but it should work. Eddie, on my signal, you two will charge in and draw fire off of us, only if I ask for it. We'll still need to get out, after all. Val, you and Ryan will come back to support them. Understood?”_

 _“Sir, yes sir.”_ They chorus again, and all at once they're off. Everyone splits up, and Jack and Gabriel head south, along with Val and Ryan, until the other two outpace them, heading even further down. Gabriel crouches in the shadow of a broken building, as does Jack, who sits beside him, rifle up.

“ _Let me know when you're in position.”_ Gabriel says over his comm device, still quiet.

It takes a few moments, but Gabe turns his head, looking at Jack. The man's eyes wander, head on a swivel. He can't stand what he's seeing. The desolated streets, the broken city, the bodies... They saw similar in the military, but never anything like this. Not innocents like this. Not to mindless machines. Gabe though... All he can see is Jack's face. He leans over suddenly, capturing Jack's lips in this brief moment of quiet, safe and alone time. He kisses him, hard, and Jack returns it quickly without a word. When it breaks, their eyes lock, and nothing needs to be said. They know this is a dangerous task they're on, and that in the next few minutes, one or both of them could be dead.

“ _In position.”_ Eddie says over the Comm, and Ryan chimes in with the same a minute or two later, obviously a little winded.

Gabriel nods at Jack, as if to say, _this is it._

“ _Eddie. Start now.”_

Seconds later, it starts, the grenades can be heard from where Gabe is, and the vibrations of them slightly reverberate through the ground. The sound of whirring mechanics and automatic turret fire can be heard seconds later. Omnics have a particular sound when they move, he realizes, the catch of treads on cement, and roll of wheels over metal debris, along with the tell-tale scraping of something hideous as it moved along, presumably on three legs. They were moving.

“ _Val, you're up. Detonate that charge.”_ In the distance, Gabe can hear the other teams lighting off as well. There's gunfire, along with explosions, though they're much louder than he expects- presumably, they're either trying and failing to detonate the traps, or, they've charged in and are detonating all three on the tracks as per the original plan.

The explosion a mile away from them goes off, and all at once, he can hear the omnics scraping back along, this time far more quickly. They have already made the connection between the grenades being a distraction and the far more lethal seeming distraction down the way, and now rush to stem the problem, unaware that this, too, is a distraction.

“ _Good job Eddie, Merrick. They're moving. Val, Ryan, get out of there. Jack and I are setting up our bombs now.”_ The first is unloaded from a pack that Gabriel has been carrying, and handed to Jack. “You set this up on the road, just there. I'm going to prep this one. Once this detonation goes off, We'll drop in, drop this bomb, and get out. Understand? Keep your weapon ready, I doubt they'll have left the stairs completely unguarded.” And as proof, Gabe can still hear the gunfire from Eddie and Merrick's weapons. Then, there's a cry- Merrick.

“Captain! Merrick's hit- leg shot. I have to get him out of here, Sir. Bots are crawling up the stairs!” _Crawling?_

Gabriel snaps his head to Jack, nodding. The bots are far enough south now that they have to do this. Jack darts out into the street, sets up the bomb and arms it. Then, he sprints back towards Gabriel. The two take immediate cover, and dust and noise hail over them. The bomb has done its job, and the street caves in. There's no time to think now, only act, as every second longer they wait gives the omnics more time to perfectly calculate the exact solution to the problem. Gabriel surges from his safe place and approaches the gaping hole in the street. It's a long drop, and it wont be an easy land, but it'll have to do. He drops through the opening, landing with a wince in a crouch over the tracks. Jack follows him, immediately raising his rifle. Already, Gabe is priming the bomb. Glancing down the tracks, they can see the gleaming lights of omnics in the distance. They'll start firing in seconds. Just a short ways ahead of them, the loading platform, armed with the remaining omnics and hazy with the dust of grenades and gunfire that Merrick and Eddie have been hailing down on it.

“We're coming up, team. Give us cover. I'm arming the bomb now.” Gabe barks into his comm device, ducking as he hears a shot come from down the tracks. The omnics have spotted them and are retreating. His fingers work over the mechanics of the bomb as Jack lights up the area around them with the blazing trails of his pulse rifle. A click sounds, and suddenly Gabriel yells. “LET'S MOVE!”

The two are sprinting now, only occasionally twisting to fire back, trying to keep the omnics at bay. The platform comes into view up ahead. The bomb goes off in a horridly loud boom, decimating the tracks, but also, because of the explosion further down the tracks, the street and ground between the two cave-ins loses its strength, and begins to collapse inward. Now, the entire structure of the tunnel is compromised, and begins to shake. Jack reaches the platform first, and bends, using his back as a sort of launch pad for Gabriel, who uses him to step up, leaping off of him and climbing over the edge of the platform. Then, without thinking, he turns, flattening himself against the ground, he throws his pulse rifle to sling over his back and extends his hand down to Jack. Jack is looking up at him, wide eyed, in shock, but with no time to debate or think. He reaches up. Their hands lock, and with some effort and a groan, they're able to haul Jack up over the edge, and both come to their feet in seconds. But, there are still a few remaining omnics here, who have suddenly turned at the commotion and open fired. Instantly, Gabriel reaches for his gun, pain screaming through his shoulder as he does so, and Jack is already pummeling into them with his own rifle. As soon as the shooting stops and they hear the crumple of metal, they sprint forward, dust and sweat coating their forms, the very roof collapsing down around them, thundering the ground. The stairs leading up and out appear in the grey nebula of debris before them. Through it, they call out, and the gunfire that echoes down the hallway stops, Gabe can hear Val's voice, resonating “All clear!”

As they leap up two stairs at a time, they pass by one of the tripods, one of its legs is broken off at the 'knee', crippling it. It's head is little more than a massive, long range laser gun, much like a rail gun in its design. They're horrifying, he realizes, especially as his eyes notice the sizable grooves carved into the cement of the stairs where it relentlessly tried to crawl after Eddie and Merrick, trying to kill them off, a wicked machine with no thought, no mind except to destroy, and no other objective to make it do otherwise. Ultimately, it was a direct rocket shot to the comparatively small chassis where all its legs connected that had done it in, leaving it now as wicked evidence of what monsters the omnics could create. Gabriel and Jack are both bleeding somehow, though neither can remember how they got the injuries or where the blood even stems from, but that hardly matters now, as the smoke clears, and a sweaty Val and Ryan come into view. Eddie is some twenty yards away, with Merrick on the ground. They've wrapped a tourniquet around his lower leg, just above the ankle, a pool of blood under him. He's in pain, but conscious, barely.

In hindsight, Gabriel feels deafened. All he can hear is the pulsing of his blood in his ears and the throbbing pain he suddenly feels that resonates from his shoulder. Gunfire echoes in their ears from farther away, but to them, it feels like a memory of what they've just been through. Though, the pain and the ringing is new, he lamented in his mind. As he barked their location into a comm device for evacuation, he could barely even hear his own voice. Jack was staring at him, reaching out oddly with one of his gloved, dusty hands, touching it to Gabriel's earlobe before pulling it away- fingertip covered in blood. Their eyes meet, and Gabe's lips form a thin line. Jack's bleeding too, a bruise forming around a bleeding knot on the side of his head, and countless other small cuts and scrapes, bruises that litter his body from falling debris. The omnics that had been chasing them were now crushed in the collapsed tunnel, and everything else was trapped somewhere between.

The whirring of engines and the rush of hot air are a welcome relief to the soldiers. Val and Ryan, who seem more or less untouched, aid Eddie in getting Merrick onto the evac shuttle, and Gabriel and Jack, despite being hurt, are able to board seconds later. There are four medics on board, and while three swarm to Merrick, who seems to have a shattered ankle and a seriously broken foot, the other comes to tend to Jack and Gabriel. Though they're both in a daze and he's mostly deaf, he can make out some of her words.

_Reyes. Dislocated shoulder, ruptured eardrum. Morrison has a cranial lesion that will need stitches. Two broken fingers. Torso laceration; possibly from gunfire._

 

Hours later, the two are sitting upright in the medbay of SEP, along with several others. Walcott is in front of them, debriefing them. Jack has stitching on the left side of his head, and his ribcage, where one of the omnics grazed him on their way out, and two of his fingers are taped up. Gabriel is half deaf and can barely hear him, arm is in a sling, and his left shoulder is wrapped, aching from where they forced it back into position and then secured it. Still, his one good ear listens.

“That was one hell of a risky plan, Reyes. We could have lost you both in there, or all of you... That said, you were the only successful team. We lost all of team Helo in the attack. Six tripods, fourteen walkers and three bastion units; there was nothing they could have done to get out of there. The others lost three, two, and three members respectively, and also failed. It gets worse... We have reason to believe the Omnics are learning from our strategies, so everything we've done here, we won't be able to do again if we hope to have any success. Your boy Merrick is getting fitted for a prosthetic ankle and foot as we speak-”

“A prosthetic? You can't expect him to fight like that-”

“You'd be surprised what science and engineering can do these days, Reyes. Hell, his leg will be stronger than it ever was before- maybe you'll get jealous!”

“They can't _repair_ it?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

“Well unless you feel like walkin' into that operating room and telling them that _you'll_ pin the fourty six shards of his bone back together personally, I'd say that amputation and replacement is the best option we've got. It's stronger, painless, and it'll heal faster. Healing a bone could take weeks. Replacing a bone takes hours.” Walcott presses, turning away. “Rest up, Gentlemen. We've still got work to do... Good job out there.” The Colonel praises as he exits the medbay.

Jack glances over towards Gabe, his eyes somewhat somber. His mind is heavy with thought, as if the deaths of the other teams weights on him personally. “One whole team, and then another eight from the other three... And that was the first attack, and they're learning. It could have been us, Gabe...”

“But it wasn't. That's important, Jack. We survived. We got the job done.”

“But we lost so many.”

“Yes. But not _our_ team.” Gabe insists. He knows that they're who he has to look after, and understands that not everyone can be saved. Though it's surprising to Jack that this doesn't seem to phase Gabriel, there's something more on his mind that allows him to overlook the fact.

“...Thanks, Gabe.”

“...For what?” Gabriel asks, straining to hear the blond, and Jack realizes that Gabe doesn't know, and he smiles faintly.

“When we were running from the Omnics, right after you armed the bomb. When you got up onto the platform... You could have just left me there. You could have run, and gotten yourself out safely... But you didn't. You turned, you reached for me. You pulled me out. Didn't you wonder how you fucked up your shoulder?” Jack asks, nodding at it. Gabriel looks down at it, and boy did it hurt... But yes, he realized, it must have dislocated when he was pulling Jack out of the pit... “You stayed... You risked your life for me. The whole tunnel could have come down on us like it did on those omnics.”

Gabe was quiet, contemplating what must have gone through his mind in those moments, and slowly looked back to Jack.

 

“That's true. I could have... I could have run and left you there, got myself out.

 

...But then we both would have died alone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH Guys! Thank you so much for reading as usual, you guys are incredible! Honestly the outpouring of support and praise I get from you guys every week is incredible and fuels me so much to keep writing this! I have SO much more planned!
> 
> ALAS! I regret to say that for the next few weeks (the next month or so?) my chapters *may* be a little late, because Hubby and I finally got approved for an apartment and we're going to be moving, (YAY!). If you've ever moved or helped someone else move, you know it can be a very time consuming thing, and I have so much to tend to before we go, but I'm going to be trying as hard as I can to keep these chapters coming out as on time as possible! You should still expect to see them every Sunday, but possibly a little later in the day, or by Monday? I'll keep you guys updated on my tumblr (http://trishields.tumblr.com/) as I'm able!


	21. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need your feedback! Help influence the story! Read the notes at the bottom and leave your reply!
> 
> UPDATE: I've reached a decision! Please read the end notes!

~

 

It was a sweet thought. The idea of dying with someone. The idea of dying knowing that someone loved you, cared about you. Perhaps Gabriel could have had that once, he lamented as he laid awake in bed, dwelling on the most recent memory. He had been a hero once. Everyone kept saying that. Ana, Angela, Katie, Jesse, even Sombra. Redemption... Such a far off idea, and he doubted it would ever be his, along with the chance of dying _with_ anyone. Overwatch was offering him his chance to get back at Talon for what they'd turned him into, and finally, he could have it. They were going to use him to bring them down... And that suited him just fine. He rolled out of bed, some questions still rolling around in his mind, stirred by the conversation he'd had with Katie. Though he wasn't scheduled for anything, he knew where Angela's office was, and he knew she could answer the questions he had.

A bit more clothing had been delivered to him, he discovered as he opened the door to his quarters. It was a few boxes, and when opened, revealed themselves full of attire, all understandably dark in color, either black, red, grey or navy, with little room for variation. He didn't mind, though, as he'd have likely chosen much the same if given the option. He'd sort those later, however. For now, he was headed off, stalking the halls in relative quiet, just his boots echoing down the grey and white hallways, bypassing others in quiet without saying anything. Some smiled, but no one dared to interrupt his quiet. Arriving at Ziegler's office proved that she was out, however. In the domes, someone said, so there he went, promptly abandoning the empty office and making his way down to the comparatively warmer gardening facilities.

When he arrived, he found that Ziegler was not alone. _Very_ not alone in fact. She lounged under a tree in the shade, perched in Genji's lap, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, her smile bright, familiar and warm. His arms draped loosely about her lower back, and today, her doctor's coat was gone, replaced with a simple, small white summer dress, decorated in pink and green flowers. Genji meanwhile had on blue jeans and a simple white tanktop; nothing special, but it was still strange to see him dressing in anything at all. Genji was wearing _clothes,_ despite that he really had no need for them. His facemask was even off, revealing his eyes, nose, and what remained of his lower jaw, parts of it replaced with metal and sensors. It must have been shocking, because Gabriel stopped in his tracks, mildly gawking. Inwardly, he contemplated whether or not he wanted to interrupt at all. The cyborg's laugh echoed across the area, and eventually, both of their eyes leveled on Gabriel, who stood there, dumbfounded.

“Reyes, don't just stand there. You obviously have something to say.” Genji said, laughing slightly. Awkwardly, Gabriel stills, shrugging, smoke oozing off of him as he struggles with how to handle this situation properly. It occurs to him that he's spent _way_ too much time being antisocial, so much so that he almost feels his face getting hot just looking at these two, let alone responding.

“Nnnh... no. It's fine. Ziegler. We need to talk.”

“Is it important, Gabriel? I can talk now... If it'll only take a moment.” She asks, glancing at Genji as though to see if it was okay. The ninja nodded, shifting and then helping her to her feet, their hands clasped for a brief moment before she reached down to straighten her dress.

“It isn't life or death, Angela.” Gabriel says, regretting that he interrupted them, starting to turn away. The doctor approaches him though, her head tilting as she comes around to face him, stopping him from leaving for a moment.

“What is the matter?” She asks in a more gentle tone, her blue eyes searching his features for some kind of explanation. She knew it wasn't like him to come out of his shell, and if he left now, he may well not come back later on. Chestnut eyes glance down to her, then back at Genji, seeming apologetic. _He was interrupting a date, and he knew it._

“ _I just had some questions about Jack._ ” He replies more quietly, and her small 'oh' of understanding lets him know she understands the sensitive nature of it. Her blue eyes turn back to Genji, smiling faintly towards him.

“We're just going to take a short walk, alright? Won't be long.” The words are given with a small, reassuring wave. The cyborg nods and slowly shifts back down to sit, then reclines back against the tree as Angela and Gabriel stride away, seemingly content to enjoy the heat of the dome from beneath the shade. Out of earshot of everyone else, and circling the perimeter of the dome, Angela finally stops and looks up at the shade. “What's troubling you, Gabriel?” She asks, able to see in his eyes that he's been thinking about this, or perhaps about Jack, more than he cares to let on.

“Katie says that Jack died, and was buried, next to my grave. She says he was brain-dead, and that they had to unplug him. But... He's here now, obviously alive, obviously not brain-dead. He remembers everything from back then. What... What exactly _happened_ to him?” The inquiry is tinged with concern, with wonder, and sadness.

Angela sighs and looks down.

“He did die, Gabriel. Jack was dead, legally.”

“You told me that you used your nanites on him, and that they reacted normally, and worked.”

“I did. After a few minutes, I was able to get to him, to use my nanites on him. They didn't work at first, nor did I expect them to. His injuries were less critical than yours, but still there. His face... Well you've seen the scar he has now. I didn't know if he would make it. I stayed with him, even as his mind went blank. I still can't explain how he recovered. The nanites healed his body, and then, presumably, his brain. Perhaps they kept him alive. Back then, the technology was very new, unpredictable, and I never did find the answer...”

“But he was _buried._ They unplugged him...”

“That is where you're wrong.” She corrected, exhaling heavily with the weight of what she was about to say. “After thirty minutes, Jack woke up, Gabriel... Just... Woke up. The nanites were healing his body, but he was still so severely hurt... I swore he might drown on his blood or... Or who knows. But he woke up, trembling. The rest of him was still, and for a moment I wasn't sure he was even in there. He looked up at me, pleading, almost. At the time, I was there alone with him. Somehow, despite the immense pain he must have been in, he managed to find the strength to speak. He begged me to help him. He said that I had to help him disappear.”

“What do you mean?”

“He knew what had happened to you. He knew that you detonated the bomb that blew up the facility. He knew it couldn't be you. That something was wrong. Needing to know the truth, he needed to go rogue. He needed to be dead. No one could know. No one saw his body when we put it in the ground; it was replaced with someone who we couldn't then identify, that was the man who we unplugged. I suppose you can say I helped Jack vanish. I took him to a private facility, where he healed over five days. He should have been there longer, but on the sixth day, I returned to find him gone. He left me with nothing more than a thank you note, and compensation for a few biotic grenades he was taking with him... After that, I didn't see or hear of him again until he resurfaced a few years ago, as Seventy-Six.” She explained, looking back at him, it was clearly difficult for her to talk about, remembering it as it had happened. Gabriel allows the information to sink in, his heart sinking somewhat with the truth. He had exploded the bomb, and Jack had gone rogue to see how... He must have had hope, even then, that Gabriel wasn't the traitor.

“So he did this for me... More or less.” He deduces, sounding defeated.

“For you, and for Overwatch. For justice. Be the hero. All that... Maybe he felt like he needed to, if it was true that you were jealous of him... Perhaps he felt guilty. I don't really know... You'd have to ask him.”

“Talking to Jack doesn't seem to get me anywhere.”

“You've tried?”

“ _I've tried.”_ He rasped slightly, rolling his eyes.

“Ah... I see. Well... I'm afraid that's all I can offer you.”

“What about the public? What's going to happen when they find out who Severty-Six really is?”

“The UN already knows. They've known for a while. They intend to break the news once Talon is brought to justice, if we are successful.”

“And if we're not?”

“If we're not, it won't matter, because we'll all be dead.” She answers grimly. Gabriel nods solemnly in understanding, then turning to face her.

“Three months to take down Talon, a Soldier vigilante that used to be the world's biggest hero, and a terrorist with amnesia that everyone wants dead. It sounds like you have your hands full.” Gabe muses bleakly. Still, he offers a small, fleeting smile at her. “Thank you, Angela. I should go... I didn't mean to interrupt your... ah. _Date._ ” he offers gently, and she giggles at him, despite the sore subject moments prior.

“Of course... Have a good day, Gabriel.” She offers in farewell before turning and heading back to Genji. Gabe watches her go before turning away himself and heading out of the dome, on his way back to his quarters. Stepping through the hangar to get back that way, he sees a ship just landing, off to his right, on the flight pad several yards away. The heat from the engines extends even here, and causes dust to scatter in the vicinity beneath it. He slows in his step, curious to see who it is when the door opens, in no hurry to get back to his bunk and brood, as it were.

A red serape is the first thing he sees as the cowboy emerges, holding his hat and waving his 'all clear' so that the pilot can close the door, then 'park' said ship. As it pulls away, spurs click their way towards him.

“Well hell, lookit you.” Jesse snorts as he approaches Gabriel, dropping his hand from his hat now as there's no chance of it blowing off. “All... dressin' up, leavin' your cave, showin' your face... You shave?” He asks, brows lofted.

“ _Shut up_.” Reyes quips back at him. “Where have you been?”

“Where the hell you think? On a mission. Go on then, I'm hungry. Let's get food.” The Cowboy eagerly nudges past him, adjusting his serape and striding towards the doors. Nevermind that Gabriel doesn't eat food. Jesse seems to ignore that fact.

“You didn't tell me Sombra was here.”

“ _Sombra's here?”_ He asks, seeming amused, a wide smile cracking across his features.

“You... wh- What's going on? You know what I meant. You didn't tell me she was part of Overwatch.”

“Of course I didn't. Don't reckon it was my place, anyway. Where's that little shit? I've got a drinkin' score to settle with her-”

“ _You're friends?”_ Gabe almost hisses, and Jesse meets his stare, eyes narrowing.

“... Lookit you, getting' all kinds of jealous. Hell, it ain't like I'm fuckin' her.” He snorts, striding off. Gabriel follows, mildly disgusted, murmuring something about not being jealous, ineffectively. He followed after Jesse until they reached the mess hall, which had a few people in it, as was to be expected. Katie was there, off at a side table, on a personal phone, sending messages, apparently. Gabriel automatically gravitated towards her as Jesse went to fetch himself food from the counter.

“Hey Chief.” She said as he approached, barely looking up from her phone.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks, and her foot nudges the empty seat beside her.

“By all means. Brought the kid in did you?” She asks, tilting her head at Jesse.

“Brought himself in. Anyway... Who's that?” he asks, glancing at the phone. There's a picture of a man on it, maybe in his mid to late twenties, clearly unrelated to her by his ethnicity, his skin dark, hinting at a middle-eastern heritage, with dark hair and a close shaved face.

“His name is Thomas. He's my son.”

“... Your son?” Gabe sounds mildly skeptical. “You've had an... interesting life, Katie.”

“After SEP, I moved on, like I said. Went to school... Met someone down the line... Adopted a couple kids... Settled down, you know. Thomas and Mina... Mina's my girl. She's studying abroad in Japan right now.” She explained, smiling, flipping through a few photos of the two kids. Mina was a Caucasian girl, quite short, with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. A sweet girl, or so Gabe assumed by looking at her, but, he knew that if they were Katie's kids, they were probably badasses all by themselves. Jesse joined them a few minutes later with a tray full of food, distracting them from the topic of families, somehow relieving to Gabe.

“Howdy Kate.” He greeted, and as Gabe stared between them, amused that they know each other, Jesse shrugged. “You get to knowin' all the doctors here real well after a while.”

“I thought they only called you back to talk to me.” Gabe pressed, and Jesse scoffed, tilting his head, a wry smirk on his lips.

“I may've... exaggerated that a little bit. They called me back to _Fiji_ to talk to ya. They got other work for me too, y'know.”

“Mnh.” Gabe grunted in response. “ _I guess._ ” He wouldn't be offended, after all, Jesse had managed to stop him from jumping off the cliff.

Then, Jesse proceeded to eat as messily as everyone expected, and Gabe lingered silently by, listening to the two talk about their days, and what Jesse had managed to find on his mission, which was apparently nothing, hence why he was back so early.

“They finally tell you why you're here?” Jesse asked, pulling him back into the conversation, and Gabe nodded. Jesse laughed gently. “Figured they would, as soon as Sombra made her move.”

“I still have no idea what kind of evidence I'm suppose to be looking for.”

“Hell. No one does, but you're still the best one for the job. You know how they operate more than anyone else. Even Sombra, with her skills, can't do some things. There's some places she can't go.”

“And you? Will you be going?” Gabe asks curiously. Jesse gently shakes his head.

“I reckon not. They've got me dealing with some other work. Gang investigations and whatnot. Besides, stealth operations aren't exactly my... uh... _forte._ ” He mused, messily chugging down some soda. Gabe smirked all the same, but anything else he might have said was interrupted as someone came shuffling into the hall. His lips peeled downward almost at once. Bright pink pants and an especially bright purple top, jogging shoes and a black hoodie. She looked like a rave, as usual.

“Speak o'the devil.” Jesse muses as she approaches them, smirking.

“Hola, _Amigos._ ” Sombra says, smiling at them until she gets to Gabriel, who openly scowls. “Oh. Don't look so butthurt, Reyes. I have something for you.” She said, reaching down into her pocket and producing a memvid. “Anyone want to see some baby photos?” Grinning, she flashes her eyes deviously at McCree, who promptly stops chewing.

“ _You what?”_ He asks, seeming mildly concerned, mouth full of food. Was that fear in his eyes?

“Oh, _relax_ , Cowboy. I got your old uh...” She flips the memvid over in her hand, reading the comparatively tiny label on it. “ _McCree interrogation and recruitment records._ ” She reads off. “Winston thinks maybe Reyes should see them. Maybe they'll help... Jog his memory or something.”

“ _Aw hell.”_ Jesse groans, already going for his hat, but Gabriel is intrigued.

“I'll go.” he says, ignoring the rebuke Jesse suddenly has, trying to stop him.

“Well, have fun. I've got to get back to work.” Katie says, moving to stand and sliding away her phone. “See you three later, yeah?” Barely waiting for a reply, she wanders off, leaving Sombra there with the two.

“Where to, then? And when?” Gabriel asks, his eyes sliding towards Sombra.

“Quarters would be best. Yours, or mine? Tonight?”

“Why tonight, why not now?” He presses.

“I have work to do before then. I just wanted to catch you before you secluded yourself away again... As you do.” She mused, recalling Gabe's antisocial behavior in Talon.

“My room, then.” Gabriel murmurs, glaring back at Jesse. “You coming?”

“Fine. But I don't want to hear no laughs. I was a young stupid shit then, and I ain't no more.”

Sombra outwardly laughs. “ _Yeah. Sure. Ok, Jesse. Whatever you say.”_ her voice drips with sarcasm and mirth, and though Gabe can barely stand her, it makes him smirk. _Perhaps this would be entertaining._

 

Some time later, Gabriel's room feels entirely too crowded. Rather enjoying his solitude, cave like atmosphere, it was strange now to have Jesse sitting on the couch to his right, beside him, hunkered down like he was prepared to weather a storm, hat damn near covering his eyes, complaining the entire way, a drink on the end table beside the couch. Sombra, crammed into the seat on Gabe's left. Her eyes are bright and wide, almost as much as her smile, as she chews loudly on a handful of popcorn that she prepared moments ago, stinking up the entirety of Gabe's quarters. The memvid has just started, and it lights up their faces in pale white and blue, flickering as the recording starts.

“This is so much ass-” Jesse groans, only to be cut off by Sombra.

“Shut up! It's starting!”

Gabriel sits between them, reclining back in his seat, arms crossed, fairly certain that he's never sat this close to Sombra before, ever, in his life.

 

~

 

Deadlock recruitee, Codename Jesse McCree.

True identity, Unknown.

Date, time.

 

Details that Gabriel wouldn't have remembered even if he didn't have amnesia.

 

There's a room that comes into focus on what is clearly a security camera inside of an interrogation room. A plain metal table, two metal chairs, seated across from each other, glass windows built into steel walls on all sides, one of which has a sturdy door built into it. First there's the sound, a muffled disturbance, then yelling.

_Y'don't know who the hell I am! I'll kill you fucks! You don't know who you're messing with, what y'doin! Arrraaaggghhhh!_

The door erupts inward with a flying youth who skids to a halt when his back hits the table. His hat is on, along with a belt buckle he wears to this day. _Bamf._ He couldn't be older than seventeen by his young looks, the choppy cut beard and the dirt and grime smeared across his features. His weapon is missing, which obviously disturbs him.

Two Overwatch soldiers suddenly catch the boy as he charges forward, trying to break his way back through the door, but they're stronger than him, and this time, when they shove him in, he hits the ground on his back and hit hat flies off. The wind is knocked out of him, and for a moment, he seems to have the common sense to stay down.

“Commander Reyes will be here within the hour to assess you. Behave.” They say, shortly before shutting the steel door that remains as Jesse's only escape back to the world he knew. Jesse, panting, slowly pushes himself up up to sitting, snatches his hat, and as soon as his breath returns, he's on his feet again. Already, Jesse fights to find a way out. At first, he goes for the table, but it's secured to the floor and refuses to move. The chairs move, and soon, he picks one up, roaring as he swings it for one of the many windows that surround his cage, as it were. The windows, reinforced glass, don't even move, or even scratch, which infuriates the teen even more as he repeatedly thrashes the metal chair against them. Futilely, he searches for a weak point in the glass, and bashes the seat upon its surface until a sheen of sweat coats his forehead and bare, tattooed, bruised arms. Eventually, he gives up, realizing he's trapped, and the sweat merges with tears that now stream openly down his face. Incensed, he moves to shove one of the chairs up under the doorknob, trying to wedge it into place to prevent anyone from coming in. He struggles at first, but eventually it takes, and as he sobs, he backs into a corner, drawing his hat down off of his head. His back hits the two adjoining walls and he sinks down, eyes traveling from the door, downwards, blurred as he settles to the floor. His hat covers his face and he weeps into it. The video quickens pace here, until there's finally a sound. A key, the clicking of a lock and the shake of a door handle. When it doesn't open at first, there's a pause. Then, without warning, a loud bang that makes Jesse jump and look up from behind his hat, his face, red with emotion and damp with tears, sweat and pure rage.

Another bang.

Then, another, and this time, the chair jerks and skitters out from under the doorknob, sliding across the room and crashing into the wall beside Jesse. The door has erupted inward, kicked open, even dented.

A man walks in. He's wearing knee-high metal boots, fitted tactical gear and armor over his chest, which clasps a hoodie close to his person. Eyes like chestnut stone, emotionless, entirely unfazed, peer out from beneath thick, dark, angled eyebrows, contrasting a few brighter scars that mark his face. A small, grey beanie tops his head, making Jesse wonder if he even has hair. A goatee along his chin makes him look more aggressive than he seems at the moment, but all the same, Jesse doesn't dare to move. Then, those eyes land on Jesse, and almost calmly, he steps in through the door, closing it quietly behind him, despite the dent, and it still fastens. _Who was going to pay for that?_ The fact that Reyes says nothing unnerves him, especially the way he crosses the room, casually picks up the thrown chair and places it back on its four legs, back on the appropriate side of the table. Slowly, he comes to sit, resting his elbows down upon the table, and Jesse stares at him incredulously.

“ _Ain't you goin' to say anything?”_ The boy growls. Reyes looks over at him, and for a moment, Jesse regrets saying anything at all.

“Now what good would _that_ do me? What'll I say- Jesse, is it? Come here and sit down? You'll do as you damn well please. I've seen that look before. Besides, I don't need you sitting in a chair to interrogate you.” Vaguely, the color bleeds away from Jesse's features and he gulps. For a few more minutes, he says nothing, but finally, curiosity takes him by force, and he speaks.

“You killed all those guys.” Jesse half-whispers. Reyes glances over at him, then back to the table. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Looks that way.” He doesn't even seem to care, which spikes Jesse's anger again.

“You killed all those guys like they were cattle. You fucks say your the good guys. _Overwatch. Bunch of self righteous-”_

 _“Thats enough.”_ Reyes cuts him off finally, and moves to stand. Jesse's sitting in the corner still, and shrinks back with Reyes approaches him. The super soldier's shadow almost envelopes Jesse whole, intimidating him.

“You gon' kill me now, too, then?” he asks.

Reyes leans down then, and Jesse jerks back as a rough, callused hand comes around his arm and, without warning, lifts him to his feet.

“I'm not going to kill you, kid.” Reyes says, tugging the teen over to the table and kicking out the opposite chair slightly before setting him in it. “Just figured I'd rather look you in the eye like a man, instead of down at a cowering boy on the floor.”

Jesse, while annoyed at being called a boy, steels his features and nods, keeping his seat.

Reyes seems to compose himself as he comes back to his seat, his elbows once again propping up on the table, his hands interlacing.

“Do you know why I've brought you here?”

“Uh.. I dunno- information I'd guess.”

“You know about Deadlock.”

“Why'n hell would I tell you anythin' about them. You killed em. They were my brothers.”

“Were they? Then why did they scatter and abandon you when we raided? Why did one of them tell us exactly where the hideout was, and how many people were there? Were they your brothers then, ' _McCree,' when they were selling you out?_ ” Reyes asks questions that the seventeen year old doesn't want to answer.

“I grew up with 'em. Lived with 'em- and now that's gone! Cause'a you.” The teen seethes.

“You can't honestly expect to have lived with Deadlock forever. They were criminals. You? You were a runaway who happened to get in good with them... Presumably because of how small you were, good at getting into places and taking out targets. You seemed pretty good with that pistol we took off of you.”

“That pistol is _mine.”_

“ _Right._ Just like it was to the guy who used to own it before you stole it. Listen, kid. Deadlock is a criminal ring. A gang. They've got no real money, no future, nothing to offer you except for a dead end or a prison cell, somewhere down the line. It isn't a question, McCree. It's said and done. The open and close of a long, dusty, old, boring book.”

“Sounds like y'done made up your mind. What the hell you want from me then?” Jesse growls.

“Want? Nothing. I'm giving you an option. An... opportunity if you will. You're under age, at least until your next birthday. Now, I could send you off, if I wanted, and they'll take you off to the juvenile hall, or whatever it is they call it, and they'll try you there for any number of crimes. If I want a few months, they'll try you as an adult. We've got at least ten men's murders with your name on them, McCree, with another twenty six counts of theft of varying degrees, god knows what else. They'll put you away for that. Let you rot in prison. That's fine with me, I guess. I don't really _care_ what happens to you. But, let me make this very simple: nothing _good_ waits for you after you leave this room, if you choose not to accept this opportunity.” Reyes pauses in the video, and after unfolding his hands, he gestures across at the teen. His tone changes, and he grows almost... friendly.

“You have skill, and a lot of promise. My... Superior... Would tell me to get rid of you, that you're not worth the time. But, I think that's incorrect. I think with a proper weapon and some good instruction, you can go a long way. I think that you could accomplish a lot of good things. Now I've read a theory as to why you left home. Stereotypical story, really. Abusive step father, a mother you want to help, but she's got her own problems. You start to look out for yourself. You tell yourself that someday you'll be able to go back. You'll be able to fix all that, but then, you get swept up in Deadlock along the way, and now you're one of them. Sound about right?”

Jesse groans and looks away. He hates to admit it, but hearing it come from someone else, it's impossibly cliché. He shrugs. “So what?” He utters, mildly embarrassed.

“You thought you could improve yourself. Thought, no one else was going to solve the problem for you, so you told yourself that one day you'd go back there... Go back and make him pay for all the pain he put you and her through. Isn't that right?”

“Yeah! So _what!?_ ” Jesse's infuriated again. Even thinking about his stepfather sets his blood on fire, and it shows in the video, in his expression, in his tone.

But Reyes smiles then, leans forward, his brows lofted.

“I think you and I have got a _lot_ in common.” He confesses, moving to stand.

“Wait- what?! Where the hell'r you goin'? I ain't made a decision yet. You ain't even told me what I'm doin' here. What do you mean _in common!?_ You don't fuckin' know who the hell I am-” Gabriel was getting ready to leave, but he stopped, half turning to glance at Jesse as the teen was now on his feet, palms pressed to the table, wide and anxious.

Reyes regards him with a small, faint smile.

“Why do you think _I_ got into this? You think you're the only one with problems, boy? Think you're the only one with a vendetta?” Gabriel smiles. It's a fleeting, small, devious sort of thing. “I'll make you a deal.”

The teen pauses, glancing up at the super soldier with those words.

“What deal?”

“Overwatch is the answer. We can give you what you need to find redemption. We can give you a chance to do some good for this world, and make you strong enough to deal with him- if you wanted to. If you agree, and I leave tomorrow... I'll take you with me... Think on it. You've got one night. In the morning, I'll want your answer.” Reyes then turns away, stalking out of the room without another word. The door shuts, and Jesse moves around the side of the table, staring at the door. His hands shove into his pockets and he leans back against the table...

 

A chance for redemption. A chance to do some good.

 

A chance to take care of her.

 

~

 

It was a long clip, and though Gabriel's eyes are glued to the screen as it goes black, the other two beside him have completely passed out. Jesse's head is back on the sofa, mouth open, slumped sideways into Gabriel, his hat rolled off onto the floor. Oddly enough, there is a small, warm body to his left- Sombra has curled up against him, her eyes closed, her breathing steady and even. It's the first time he's ever seen her like that, and for a moment, it's cute, until he remembers that she's seen him naked.

He has half a mind to move, to simply evaporate away and let the two collide into each other, except that he's more or less in the same boat they are. He's exhausted, and his body all but refuses to move. And... as much as he hates to admit it, there's something about their warmth that comforts him, similar to the warmth of the bath tub, but better. Feeling someone there, breathing, someone he cares about, if even minutely, knowing that they in some respect, care about him- it's nice. Nice enough that, despite how much it bothers Reaper on a fundamental level, Gabriel gives up his attempts to leave.

Eventually, all three end up laying across the sofa, snoring against each other, completely at peace.

Gabriel starts to feel like he belongs somewhere, even if it isn't where he hoped to be.

 

That night, no dreams come. No nightmares. Even the pain his body constantly suffers seems to ebb away from him.

 

The morning after could not have been less peaceful.

Sombra has abandoned the men at some point, probably to find a more comfortable bed, or maybe simply escape the embarrassing situation Gabriel was about to wake up to.

 

A hand smooths through his hair, touching his scalp. Gabe's on his back, head against the arm of the sofa, blissfully unaware. There's an arm around him, a weight on him that he begins to stir beneath. Light squints from a holo-screen nearby, mirroring sunlight as it shines across his face. Still, the fingers toy in his hair, causing him to groan a sort of relief.

“ _Aw, Hanzo- darlin', it's too early. You ain't gotta go yet... Nnnn... Hair.. soft... Nice...”_

 

Wake. The fuck. Up. GABRIEL.

Eyes have suddenly popped open and his body tenses up across every inch of his frame.

Fingers. Hair.

_Something is wrong._

There is a cowboy plastered to his front side, head on his chest, tousled hair, small pile of drool.

“JESSE!” Gabriel snarls suddenly, causing the gunslinger to abruptly jerk awake, startled so much that he flies backwards, especially as Gabriel has shoved him off with so much force that he tumbles off the sofa. Gabe is a ghost in seconds, twisting and wheeling away, a cloud of black fog that refuses to take shape in his embarrassment.

“Wha- _huh_? O-Oh... _Holy hell. I uh.. Goddamnit.”_ Jesse stammers, his cheeks are suddenly burning more brightly red than Gabriel has ever seen them. He scrambles for his hat. “I- uh.. I'm gonna go-”

“GET. OUT.” Reaper all but roars. Finally, Gabriel retakes his shape somewhere near the minibar in the back of the room.

“What time is it-” Jesse flounders, throwing on his boots which have gotten kicked off at some point during the night. “Eight Thirt- _oh fuck. Uh. Boss. Sorry. We're just not going to talk about thi-”_

 _“Get the fuck out, McCree.”_ Reaper hisses through Gabe's lips. Gabe is already pouring himself a strong drink, despite the hour. Jesse flees the room, his cheeks red, knowing he was late to somewhere...

 

Gabriel didn't come out of his room that day, ignoring the flashing notification on his holo-screen that said he was due for a debriefing with Jack. Which, might have been fine, if Jack hadn't been on his way to Gabe's quarters when Jesse suddenly came barging out of it wearing the same outfit he wore yesterday, looking like he just killed someone's cat. Their eyes met, and Jesse was even more humiliated, so he said nothing, and rushed on.

Jack, smirking, decided not to bother Gabriel that day.

 

It was that night when a buzz finally came at the comm of his door. Gabriel, soothing an ache out of his spine in the tub, groaned from his groggy near-sleep, coming awake with a slow start. The comm buzzes again. Though he's in the other room, he can faintly hear someone's voice over it, and when he sits upright, he can make it out properly.

“Look, I hope y'ain't sour 'bout this morning. I didn't mean anythin'- You alrigh'? I'm coming in...”

 _“Christ.”_ Gabriel murmurs, abruptly getting out of the tub and loosely wrapping a towel around himself and slipping back into his bedroom, struggling to get himself decent before the gunslinger suddenly pushes the door open.

“Oh!” The cowboy winces as Gabriel instantly snarls at him.

 _“_ Heard of knocking?!” Still very much appreciating his privacy, he glares at the door as Jesse suddenly backs out, inwardly cringing. _Fuck. This was starting to look really bad._

 _“I swear it ain't fuckin' intentional!”_ He rebukes, but he can't help but recall the very vague glimpse of the extra arms he had, and how they were attached- or rather, weren't? It was hard to say.

Gabriel finally emerges, still damp from his shower, undercut hair slicked back, tank top on, pants on and belted up.

“What is it _now_?” Gabe asks. “Why does it seem like you're always in my room. Don't you have your own?”

“Uh. Well. Yeah. 'Course. I just... I dunno.”

“ _What._ ”

“It's just...” Jesse was facing away slightly, looking down. Gabriel eventually moved forward, until he was standing nearby, but he didn't touch him. Quiet as he was, he let the man speak. “You've been gone a real long time. Thought y'dead. Mourned you. Now you're here and I'm afraid that I might fuck somethin' up, and you won't like me the way you used to.”

“Why should that matter to you?” Gabe asks.

“You were more than my Commander, Reyes. A best friend. A big brother to me. You were part of the family I always wanted, but never got.. Not until you dragged my sorry ass up off the floor. Watching that vid last night made me remember.” He had turned to face Gabe now, his eyes hard, fierce, the way they had been that day that he brought up. “And I'm scared, because I know you're in a bad place. I know that this ain't exactly what you had in mind. I know that the memories you get back- they're botherin' you, and the way you talk about Jack... Say what you will, but you're stuck on him, Gabe. Stuck on him like you never left. You're still in love with him... This place never felt the same without you in it, and if somethin' happens to make you leave, I don't know where I'll be. I don't think I could stand watchin' it happen again.”

A silence settled heavily between them, and Gabe looked down, thinking over what Jesse had said before he looked back.

“And you're afraid that's what will happen? That... Something will go wrong... Maybe something with Jack and I, and that I'll leave?” He asks.

“Maybe. Yes. Jack was so much to you. What if he never comes back around after all- what's to stop you disappearing right off this base? Wherever you'd go, I'd never find you, Reyes, and you know it. You and I both know you ain't committed to Overwatch like the others.”

“...You mean..?”

“I _know_ you, Reyes. You're here for _something._ There's always something. As noble as it is, helping civilians, world peace... That was never what you were in for. You did it because you had another agenda. Same reason I joined. I'm just worried that for you, that something is Jack, and that... And even if it isn't, if things don't work out, it's all over, and you'll disappear again.”

These words caused Gabriel's jaw to tighten. Jesse wasn't wrong. He was definitely here for something, and though it was true, he wanted things to smooth out between he and Jack, in reality, once again, he was here for revenge. He wanted to end Talon. They needed to pay for what they had turned him into, for what they had cost him... And once that was done? What would he do then? If Talon was defeated, and Jack didn't want him- what then was the point of staying with Overwatch? He was never a hero, and he never really expected to be. That wasn't likely to change now.

So, it made sense then, that if things didn't pull through, he would leave.

Jesse had obviously connected those dots with just a little bit of thought, and now here he was, all but in tears over the very idea of it.

“...I don't know what you want me to say, Jesse.” Gabriel confesses. Jesse's brows knit and he looks angry. Almost growling, he stalks forward until he stands directly in front of him.

“Like hell you don't. Say you won't leave. Say you'll stick this through.”

“I can't make that promise and you know it.” Gabriel replied tersely, raspy tones edging their way into his voice.

“I didn't say promise, goddamnit, Reyes. I said say it. I don't care if it's true. I want to hear you say it, that you won't leave, that you wont abandon this after you get what you're after. Goddamnit Reyes- I love you, don't you get that?”

It was the first time anyone had said they loved him in a _very_ long time, and even now, Gabe couldn't remember the last time it happened. It took him aback and made his stomach sink uncertainly. In a way, it scared him, though he couldn't place why exactly.

“Say it!” Jesse barked, brows tight, teeth almost grated.

“ _I won't leave.”_ Gabriel replies quickly, but then, he stills, and more slowly, more composed, their eyes meet. “I _won't_ abandon you, Jesse.”

“Make me believe it, Gabriel.”

“Jesse-”

“I need to hear it.”

“Jesse.”

“ _Christ almighty, Reyes.”_ The gunslinger murmurs, turning away.

 _“_ JESSE...” This makes the cowboy stop, finally, and Gabe steps forward, putting his hand on his shoulder. “I'll make you a deal.” And here, the brown-headed deadeye stops entirely, stilling. The last time Gabe said those words...

“If I leave here...” Gabe started. Jesse turned back, staring him in the eyes, chestnut, flecked with red, but sincere.

“You'll take me with you.” Jesse finishes roughly, remembering the words. Gabriel sticks out his hand, solidifying the deal as it were. It was as close to a promise as he could really get and still mean it. For a moment, Jesse looks down at the hand. He knows what that could mean. What if Gabriel decides to just... Vanish? Would that mean he'd vanish too? Disappear somewhere and operate as vigilantes, like Jack had for so many years? Would going with Gabriel be worth it? To leave Overwatch behind, and follow his old mentor into whatever perils he leads them into?

Could Jesse live with himself, if he lets Reyes get away from them again?

Without another second's thought, he reaches out and shakes the hand, strong, meaningful, more so than a few words.

“You may regret it.” Gabriel finally says, cracking a small smile, releasing Jesse. He paces away to the bar nearby, and starts preparing himself a drink. It doesn't do a whole lot for him, but the flavor is mostly satisfying.

“Got a real good feeling I will. You better not rope me into Talon, Gabriel. I ain't about to turn traitor on my own people.”

“ _Talon_ is the reason I'm here, Jesse.” He's saying, as as he does, the cowboy has joined him by the minibar, leaning over to sniff the opened bottle Gabe has. His nose scrunches distastefully. “They did this to me. They did this to Overwatch. They destroyed everything between Jack and I. They took me away from you.”

“You're finally on the side that believes you're innocent?” Jesse asks.

“No.” Reaper murmurs, voice deepening. “But I know who I am. I know I wouldn't have done what they said I did without either a _very_ good reason, or without... some kind of explanation. Talon will have that explanation. I will tear it from their throats if I have to.”

“And if things don't work with Jack?”

“I'm not _trying_ for Jack, anymore. He's moved on. It's obvious now. Sure, he looks. Everyone looks. Maybe he likes the memory, but he isn't giving me anything. I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to try.”

“So you're movin' on then?”

“Putting my attention elsewhere... Who knows...” he glances over at Jesse, faintly chuckling. “Maybe I'll find _another_ reason to linger around Overwatch.” His voice drips with sarcasm, and then, a rare, but amusing joke all the same as he attempts to lighten the tense mood. “ _Especially if you keep grooming my hair and drooling on my chest.”_

“Oh god. Nope. Reckon I'm done here.” Jesse spits, turning away at once and stalking to the door, spurs clicking as he struggles to keep away the embarrassment from his features. “You gonna drink that shit all night, or come to the bar with me?”

Gabriel's laughing, a wholesome, welcome sound.

“W-What?” he chuckles. “Bar? You're not going to... _I don't know, ..._ Sign me up to kill half the people in the room, are you?” And to this, Jesse snorts.

“That depends how rowdy you get when you're gone I s'pose.”

“Mnh,” Gabriel grunts, moving away for shoes and the rest of his attire. “Guess we won't have to worry about that. I don't _get_ gone anymore.”

“That's prolly a good thing I 'magine... Don't think Jack's going to be lurking to keep you in line anyway.”

“ _As if he could.”_

“Don't figure he would; pretty sure he thinks we're fuckin' now.”

“You _what?!”_ Gabe stammers, slipping into his boots, and strapping on the plates from his coat beneath his hoodie, to keep his shadows locked down, as he couldn't very well be seen in public with them wafting off of him.

“Oh.. heh, _yeah he.. uh._ Sorta... this morning when I left, he sorta saw me leavin'. It was real... _Real_ awkward.”

“ _Jesus fucking Christ.”_ That was probably THE single last thing that Gabe ever wanted anyone, let alone Jack, to think about him. The two then exit the quarters, saying nothing to one another, but Gabriel suffers down the embarrassment to ask the question that haunts his mind as they wake their way to the hangar.

“Jesse.”

“Hm?” The cowboy grunts as they arrive at a familiar looking car. Same make, same model.

“Would Jack have any... _Reason_ to assume that's what we're doing?”

Their eyes meet over the top of the vehicle, and Jesse seems to glare at him. He knows without question what Gabriel is asking him. _Had they done that before?_

“ _Get in the car.”_ The cowboy growls. Whatever the answer is, he doesn't seem interested in giving it. Gabe decides that answer's probably all he needs to let the question drop entirely. Maybe he doesn't want to know after all.

 

An hour later, they're at the bar, already through a shot a piece, and Jesse is joking up a storm with the bartender. Gabe does his best to keep his head down and away from anyone's line of sight who might recognize him, but, no one does. Not anymore. Eventually, the topic turns.

“What were you doing with them anyway?” Gabe asks, referring vaguely to Deadlock, without saying the name openly in public. “The video wasn't exactly specific.”

“It was just a place to get away. Reckon I don't know what I was doin'.”

“So he was... Abusive...” Gabe deduces, looking down some. He doesn't want to pry. “I'm sure you've told me all this before. What happened between you and him... But I...”

“You don't remember. I know...” Jesse stares into his drink, then shrugs. He waits for the bartender to leave to the opposite end of the counter to speak again. “He came into our lives at a rough time. I was pretty young, and my Dad had gotten in an accident. Didn't survive through it. I barely even remember him. Well at first, everything was fine. He seemed like a nice guy. Decent job. Took care of himself. Said he'd care card of my ma and me... I guess for a year or two, he did. They got married. Then he lost that job of his, and we struggled to stay afloat... He couldn't find work anywhere else, so he turned to alcohol...” Jesse lowers his voice even further. And continues.

“'Bout then, I was just... Uh... Discoverin', I guess... What I was into. He saw me kissin' one of my friends... Lost his mind. Real homophobic guy. Told me I wasn't tough, that I was a pansy, and a disgrace to being a man. Told me I'd never make it in the world. That I was just a weak toy for others to use. That, my mother messed up when she had me, and told me my actual Dad woulda been ashamed if he knew. Said he was lucky he died, not knowing what filth I was.” Gabriel can hear the rage work its way into Jesse's voice.

“Deadlock was just... an escape from that. I guess part of me figured they'd toughen me up. They'd teach me how to be a proper man. Thought no one would... Suspect, if I was with 'em. That, maybe I wouldn't be weak, or maybe, just maybe, they'd teach me somethin' and my Stepdad wouldn' dare put his hands on me or ma again.”

“And after I recruited you?”

“Carved out of stone, I guess. None of that stuff mattered anymore. Not after a while anyway.”

“I mean... Did you go back. Take care of him the way you wanted.” Gabe asks, and Jesse, powering through his next shot, glances over at him. He seems to shrug.

“Took care of him well enough... After Overwatch. When I left, didn't have nothin' else to do. Figured I'd deal with my own problems.”

“Did you...” _Kill him?_ The words were unsaid, but Jesse knew the connotation in his voice.

“ _No. I didn't, Gabe...”_ He paused, motioning for another set of drinks. Gabriel puts one back effortlessly with Jesse, who's getting significantly more hammered, in light of his still being human, as it were. Finally, Jesse continues. “I went out there... Put a bullet in each of his knees, then took my ma away. Real far away. She's in another state now. Another house. _Safe._ ”

“Did she... Resist?” Gabe asks, knowing that many abusive relationships were tough to end.

“At first. She didn't realize I was still alive. She thought I was dead... I'd spent so long in Overwatch... When she saw me... It was different somehow. She realized she didn't have to rely on him. Told her I'd get her by; she can't work no more, so it's on me.”

“So you send her your checks.” Gabe deduced.

“More or less... S'ides what I need to take care of myself.” He confesses, shrugging. Gabe looks at him for a long moment and ultimately smiled. The way Jesse had grown- it impressed him. A proper gentleman, beneath the gritty surface.

He was proud.

 

Then, those few, brief moments of fluff evaporate as another question bubbles to the top of Gabriel's mind.

 

“...Jesse.”

“ _What now,_ ” the cowboy murmurs, he's clearly not keen on all the questions.

“ _”Hanzo?””_

_“Oh Christ almighty. You're on about that-”_

“You're not referencing the S _himada,_ are you?... Genji's brother?”

“Figured you would have forgotten him...”

“ _You must be joking. Talon has been trying to recruit him for months...”_

“You don't say...” McCree seems to have already known this, indicating that he and Hanzo are a hell of a lot closer than he wants to admit.

“Plan on telling me what's going on?” Gabe asks.

“You ain't givin' me a hell of a lot of choice.”

“You said you had gotten mixed up with a dragon...” The shade recalls.

“Look, we gotta talk about this _now?_ It ain't nothin' at the moment, s'all you need to know, alright?” Jesse mutters, groaning down another drink. Gabriel smirks, and looks away. Maybe it's better not to push that story right now. Obviously Jesse was sleeping with the man, or at the least developed a fantasy about him. How had that even happened? Despite not having met him personally, all of the reports Gabe had read suggested that Hanzo was a little less than receptive to any kind of offer, let alone the kind Jesse likely offered.

Gabe spent the evening finishing off a few more drinks with Jesse there, mostly chatting casually about things that don't really matter. At the end of the night, Jesse, plastered as he is, asks Gabe to drive home- which is easy since it's more or less automated, and the vehicle already knows how to get to Overwatch headquarters at the touch of a button, more or less. It's a quiet ride with a nighttime view of the Dolomites in all of their authentic glory, cutting dark, sharp shadows into a sky filled with a trillion stars. Jesse snores in the passenger seat beside him.

 

As he helps the drunk cowboy back to his room, Gabe is briefly reminded of the way it felt last night, with Sombra on one side and Jesse on the other, feeling for a moment like he was home, somehow.

 

Maybe he'd find a reason to linger around Overwatch after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading this chapter!  
> This chapter was meant to be a funny! I hope you laughed!
> 
> PS, tell me what you think of the McReyes implications in this! It's all in good fun, of course, meant as a joke. They're not actually a thing, but I still thought it'd be fun and funny to play up the joke. Maybe if you guys like it, I could include a scene (from Gabe's past, obviously) in the story. Maybe a McReyes scene or a McReaper76 scene from Blackwatch days?? I haven't decided, so I'm leaving it upto you guys to make up my mind! Leave a comment below to let me know your thoughts on it!
> 
> I may even write a McReyes story (totally unrelated to Haunted) somewhere down the future, after this universe story is done (which is a LONG WAY OUT). I have... Uh. At least one sequel story planned, along with a McHanzo Offshoot story all in this same universe. 
> 
> Also, sorry for the delays guys! As some of you may know, I'm moving! Ive been really busy trying to get things sorted, so I hope that's ok!
> 
>  
> 
> Update!  
> Due to the overwhelming support of leaving McReyes out of the story, I've decided not to go that way with the story. Most people seem to prefer more family ties, and others are justly concerned that adding another implication to the story might be out of place or too distracting from the main R76 plot. After some consideration and thought, I agree. I feel like, if McReyes was ever going to have a place in this story, I would have had to preface their relationship differently than I so far have. I MAY still write them their own story, later on, in a universe/au unrelated to this one, but that's a long way down the line.
> 
> Thanks so much for your feedback guys! You helped me decide where I was torn, and let me know what you're looking for! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the story the way it pans out!
> 
> That said, please avoid any kinkshame comments and assume this matter at rest. Any rude or unwelcome comments will be deleted, so please conduct yourself in a polite manner when replying. Thank you!


	22. Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Heavy Smut, Explicit.

It's the following morning. Gabriel dozes, despite that his alarm beeps on the holo-screen across from the bed, flashing lights at the man. But, he's buried beneath the covers, cocooned in a mass of black blankets and shadows that swirl around him naturally as he sleeps. The sound echoing his way isn't enough to wake him, and at least this morning, neither is the buzzer of the comm device as it goes off. There's a faint voice, but still, Gabe is quiet and comfortable, warm, lost to whatever keeps his mind occupied. For once, it isn't nightmares or memories, but something softer.

In this dream, he's in a home. Not the home he grew up in, but his own home, his apartment back before the military. But, he's not alone. There's family with him, at least it feels like family- albeit adopted. Jesse is there, along with Sombra, for some reason. Katie's there too, in the kitchen, cooking something that smells amazing with one of her kids. There's one more, and though he can barely make out her sable-silhouetted figure against a far window, when she comes into focus, he realizes that it's Widow, leaning against the windowsill, staring out into the night. She looks... stoic. Statuesque, unfeeling nearly, but there's a sadness in her eyes that Gabriel now remembers all too well. Before he can approach her, a voice enters his mind, unexpected and somehow otherworldly.

“ _Reyes?”_ It's Jack. Gabriel turns to look for him, but he's nowhere in the apartment. His voice is laced with concern. A door creaks open. “Oh for fucks sake, Reyes.” Jack says, but Gabe wheels, looking for the source of the voice. It's nowhere.

Then, Gabriel is suddenly cold.

And awake.

The covers have been abruptly jerked off of him, yanked clear off the bed, causing him to curl up instinctively. His body comes alive with goosebumps, and his ears catch on the beeping alarm from the holo-screen nearby. His eyes crack open, finding himself staring down a very, very unamused Jack Morrison.

“Jack!?” He's startled, and suddenly reaches for the covers, since he's wearing nothing but black boxers. “What the fuck!? Couldn't knock?” he growls, failing to reach the covers as Jack has tossed them too far out of reach, his arms across his chest.

“I _tried._ You didn't answer. Do you know what time it is?” Jack asks, looking away as Gabriel ghosts to a stand.

“The fuck kind of question is that? Of course I don't know what time it is.”

“Ten thirty. You were suppose to meet me for a debrief two and a half hours ago.”

“I thought that was yesterday- and so what?” Gabriel shrugs as he slips into a pair of pants, ignoring Jack some ways behind him, who stares, no longer hiding the gesture. “You think you can just... Waltz into my room when I'm not even dressed?”

“Well yesterday it seemed to me you had... Uh... An _eventful_ night.” Jack counters, smirking slightly. Gabriel growls and flushes darkly.

“Shut up. You don't know anything. Nothing happened.”

“Maybe I showed up to make sure you weren't getting back into bad habits.”

“Oh? And what habits are those?”

“Drinking, smoking... Sleeping in too late.” Jack utters quickly, though in truth, perhaps Jack recalls those sorrowful moments on the cliff a few weeks prior. Someone had to check on him, after all. Gabriel seems to recognize this, but for the moment, stays quiet on that detail, instead petrified by the idea of what Jack must think of him.

“I've never fucked him.” Reaper snaps abruptly, and Jack erupts with a small, surprised laugh.

“Gabe-”

“You don't think that, do you?” Gabriel utters demandingly.

“ _Don't be ridiculous, Reyes._ ” Jack rolls his eyes. “ _Of course I don't._ How would you know, anyway? You suddenly remember?”

“No but...”

“Look. Don't worry about it. It never happened.” The Soldier replies, sighing. “Get dressed. You need debriefing.” No puns intended, it seemed. The fact that Gabe cares what he thinks doesn't go over his head. In fact it's... Almost cute. Why should Gabe care so much after all that's happened? Gabe is, at least, somehow insanely relieved. For once, he got a straight answer.

“Can't you just do it here?” Gabriel asks, throwing on a tank top. Jack glances around and shrugs. It wasn't his first choice.

“As I said, drinking and smoking. It reeks in here.”

“Drinking and smoking didn't kill me before. It sure as hell won't now. Why are you debriefing me anyway? You're not even technically Overwatch...”

“Winston doesn't like you, and thinks you won't take him seriously.”

“ _I don't.”_

“Well, that's why I'm here, and Ana didn't care to see you naked again.”

“But you _did_ , is that it?” Gabe asks forwardly.

“Nothin' new to me.” Jack lies. Those extra, ghostly arms are definitely new, and he's been watching them a little more than he'd openly admit. Their eyes meet and for a long moment, neither of them say anything. Jack holds his ground. Gabriel does too. _Is he hitting on me?_ They both seem to think the same thing.

“Right.” Gabriel murmurs, finally breaking the stare. “Well get on with it then.”

Jack turns and heads out of the bedroom, leading into the main area and taking a seat at Gabriel's dining table. Sure, it reeks, but he doesn't have to be here long. Gabe stops at his mini-bar for a drink, despite the morning hour, and eventually sits as well.

“You're looking for evidence. We have a number of Talon hubs on file, thanks to Sombra. We'll be sending you with her and Ana in a small stealth ship. Sombra will be your eyes, and Ana will be your backup, if you need it. But, the actual search... That will have to be done by you.” As he says this, he slides over a small tablet projecting the location of the drop and the mission itself, along with all the nitty, gritty details involved, down to what kind of ship they're taking and who's technically on board. None of it really matters to Gabriel, who passes it back after a glance.

“Remind me why Sombra can't do this herself?”

“Sombra has her place in Talon. It's a place that she's worked hard to get to, and you know better than most that they don't entirely trust her. They'll watch her if she starts to go randomly snooping around rooms she doesn't belong in. The evidence... As convenient as it would be for them, we don't think it's on a computer.”

“It isn't digital?”

“Likely not. Most information is passed that way nowadays, so it's the first place someone would look. By now, at least three different groups have done covert investigations into Talon, finding nothing. My bet is that they're hiding it... Or, if they're smart, they'll have destroyed the evidence... But... I doubt that's the case.”

“Why?”

“Because if they did it before, and it worked so successfully, they will want to replicate it. We presume they did the same with Amélie... You don't remember this yet, probably... But Widowmaker used to be a friend of Overwatch. Her husband- Gerard, was one of our operatives.”

This surprises Gabriel, who has no memory of it, and he's shocked to hear that she had any official ties to Overwatch at all. Somehow, up until this point, he had not pried or connected the dots that Gerard was the same man she had executed all those years ago, before he was part of Talon.

“And to replicate that, they will need the instructions, the proof as to how to do it again. The council... We still don't quite know everyone who's in on it-”

“Few do.” Gabriel murmurs. “Not everyone shows up to the meetings, because it isn't safe. Some members are just names with no faces. I only went to a very select few meetings, myself... And leaderships change. It's like any company, I suppose. People come and go.”

“Well, if they were behind the collapse, someone has proof. We need you to find it.”

“And you think it will be at one of these hubs?”

“Somewhere. Yes. Probably locked away. Somewhere you haven't been before, maybe.”

“Alright.” Gabe murmurs. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you're ready. Tonight, or tomorrow morning. They're leaving it up to you.”

“That's risky, isn't it? Half of Overwatch is counting on me to betray us anyway.”

“Risky, maybe, but... Ana's a good shot.” Jack seems to imply that Ana could put Gabe down, which Gabriel pointedly ignores as if the notion is a mere joke.

“If Talon found out about Sombra, you'd be ruined.”

“That isn't what you want, Gabe.” Jack presses. It's clear that Gabe's just trying to get a rise out of him, and he's not biting.

“And _you_ know what I want? _That's a laugh._ ” Gabriel snorts, finishing his drink, and smoke plumes off of him as he moves to stand, turning away.

“I know that you want to rewind time, Gabriel.” Jack says suddenly. Gabe pauses and looks back. Jack has met his stare now. While the shade says nothing, the weathered soldier responds. “You want answers for something you don't understand. You want to reclaim those fond memories you've got because they're all that make you feel human. You think that... Without them, there's nothing left for you. Maybe you think there's nothing left _of_ you without some kind of driving purpose. You want to know what that purpose is, and every time you fail to find it, it becomes a little harder to deal with what's happened.” His words are hard to swallow, but true, all the same.

“...Get out, Jack.” Gabriel growls venomously.

“Gabriel-”

“ _I said get out._ You don't know the first thing about me.” Reaper lies through Gabe's lips. Jack's lips frown slightly. He pushes himself up and paces away to the door.

“That's not true, and you know it isn't. We're on the same side now. I want the same answers you want. I want to know what happened to Overwatch, and everything else... Just like you do. Talon won't give you those answers willingly, you have to go and take them. You, more than any of the rest of us. I've tried, Gabe. I've tried for years. I mourned you, despite everything everyone was saying. I searched for you in all the places I could think of... When you finally found us, I had given up...” The Soldier pauses. It's clear by his expression that he struggles what to say, but knows if he doesn't say it, he might not say it period.

“… And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I gave up, Gabe. Maybe I should have trusted you more. Maybe none of this would have happened if I had just opened up to you, and let you talk to me the way we needed to.”

Then, the Soldier is gone. The door slides shut with a click in his wake, and Gabe is left standing there, feeling hollow and broken. For once, he feels like he's been _actually_ speaking to Jack, and not the hardened war veteran who seems to have taken over in his place.

Does he feel the same, Gabriel wonders? Does he feel like he's been speaking to Gabriel, and not just the Reaper that has consumed him for the last several years? Does he no longer feel like Gabriel is dead?

 

The hours tick by like years. Gabriel wants to go, needs to go, if to get his mind off of things and finally, after how many months? He needs to get back on the field. It's not to say he's lost his ability to fight, but he's restless, and now, he might have a chance to latch his claws onto something... Solid. Real answers. Something he needs.

Mexico. He should have figured that would be the hub they hit first. It's a little no-name town on the south eastern coast, a place that Gabriel has been only a few times before. Why here? Does Overwatch think this is the best place to start looking? Maybe so. Sombra is in the ship with him, sitting across a table from him, idly browsing the net on a holo-screen projected by her hand, or so it seems, quiet, keeping to herself, which he approves of. Gabriel lounges somewhat, staring out the window. Beneath them, the city streets light up in an array of orange constellations. Fluffy clouds mimic the blue shade of early morning, navy and sapphire as the stealthy ship cuts through them. Eventually, Sombra slides out of her seat and slinks away to talk to Ana... Far enough away that Gabriel can't hear them.

“We have a problem.” She whispers to the elder sniper, who's acting as the head of this mission. They're in the back of the plane, fixing themselves something small to eat- a burden that Gabe doesn't have.

“What's that?” Ana asks softly, quiet so as not to draw attention. Sombra carefully glances over her shoulder. Gabe is oblivious, staring out the window, lost in brooding thought.

“ _She's_ here.” Sombra admits. Without question, Ana already knows of whom she speaks.

“... Where? Why didn't you know this before?”

“I can't say. Her check in was four hours ago. There wasn't a notification. They must have decided to move her suddenly.” And to this, Ana pauses.

“It's early, Sombra. Even she has to sleep. It shouldn't be a problem... Just...” Ana glances back towards Gabriel. “Try to steer him away from her.”

Sombra nods, then slips away.

 

Twenty minutes later, the ship lands, touching down outside of town in patchy clearing with just enough space for the ship to descend.

“Are you ready?” Ana asks Gabriel, who is now on his feet.

“Ready enough.” the man replies, glancing to Sombra. “And you?”

“Good to go. Follow my instruction. I'll be your eyes.” She says, and Gabriel nods.

“Do you have everything you need?” Ana asks, glancing at the man.

All at once, his form shifts and twists. Shadow overcomes him, enveloping him, along with the familiar, comforting touch of leather, hood and mask. All that's been left out are the gleaming metal aspects of his boots, which would be far too loud for this stealthy mission. Instead, in their place, the far quieter combat boots he's been wearing for weeks. No gleaming red lights, and as little metal as he can manage, with exception to his gauntlets. He nods wordlessly at the two, then ghosts quite literally through them on his way to the opening hatch. The moment it cracks open, he slips out. A device in his ear clicks, keeping him in tune with Sombra and Ana.

“ _Check check. We're green, yeah?”_

_“_ Copy.” Reaper responds, but nothing more. The base faces away from him. It almost looks like a church, but it's broken down and now hosts more parking lot than anything useful. It's a ruse to keep people out, as most of the inner workings lay below ground. In the shadow of the Lumerico ziggurats that dot across the entire country, no one suspects the lurking giant that is Talon, that makes one of its homes here. Just past four in the morning and the streets are barren, devoid of both life and attention, but Gabriel avoids them all the same.

“ _Cameras are hacked. You're free to enter, Reyes.”_ Sombra informs.

Saving his energy for the actual infiltration, he slinks along the dark exterior of the building on foot, searching for any acceptable point of entry. There's a sizable crack in the roof, which he's able to slip through as a fine, black mist. His eyes adjust to the room as he solidifies near one of the back corners. As expected, the church was meant to look abandoned, so there was nothing visible here, but he knows that there are cameras, even if Sombra has them all fooled for the time being. The wraith makes his way down a staircase that leads into the bowels of the establishment, past once-used kitchens and prayer rooms. In hindsight, it seems ironic to have this place be one of the hubs, given how devoted to chaos and war that Talon is. But, that doesn't matter now, as he finds his way to a set of hidden panels along one wall. There's no vents here, no easy way in no matter how he wanted one, and so begins the arduous task of waiting for someone to exit... Or....

“Sombra.” He rumbles quietly. “I need these doors open.”

Though her end cracks, he can hear her cackling with laughter on the other side, and he knows _exactly_ why. “ _Shut up. Get. Them. Open.”_ he hisses.

“ _Alright, alright. Jeeze.”_ She snorts, finally getting the door to crack open. Inside, its moderately lit. Brown walls and a mottled brown carpet make the hallway especially uninviting, but it's made worse by the unfortunately old, yellow lights that they've picked to keep it so dim. It's a night shift, so he knows they wont lighten until later. He'd like to be done here before that happens, or before anyone catches on that the cameras aren't functioning properly. After all, he has no idea how long Sombra can keep up the act.

Silently, Gabriel navigates the halls, sometimes a ghost, sometimes not, wanting to conserve his energy should anything come up. Where would Talon keep top-secret intelligence? A command center? An intel room? Locked away in a file cabinet somewhere in storage? Outside of the command center, Gabriel's never been to these rooms, and even then, it was sparingly. Most of his time was spent in the interrogation rooms, or in his own assigned quarters, which changed on every visit.

For an hour, Gabriel lurks, carefully avoiding night patrols who are nearly as dead as the grey and black furniture in every room. They're tired, and it's clear that they're overworked. They don't notice the shade as he makes his way along... Gabriel briefly wonders, even if they did spot him, would they even know he had left Talon? Or, were the higher ups keeping it under lock and key that they'd lost one of their most powerful assets?

As tempted as he is to confront some and find out the truth, he dares not interrupt his mission and lose his surprise. If he can get out of this without killing anyone, all the better.

The command center is quiet and almost vacant. No one's doing anything significant tonight, and with little more than a brief glance around the room, he knows beyond question that what he's looking for wont be here. Everything in the vicinity is electronic, and if it is, Sombra will have already found it. Once again a cloud, he moves off, keeping to the darkest shadows of every room, making no noise as far as he's able. The intelligence room comes into view. He's bypassed it several times before, little more than an office type sector where their information is kept and documented, usually right after interrogations or nearby missions. At this hour, it's a ghost town. Slipping in, he creeps low to the floor, and once he has the go ahead, begins searching through the contents of every desk, drawer and file cabinet he can find. Ledgers of supply shipments, mission reports, employee evaluations... He scans through the latter for his name, but finds nothing. Either they've locked away his file somewhere else, or removed it entirely. Each time he comes up empty handed, Gabe closes up and leaves everything exactly the way it was before, refusing to leave any evidence of his passing.

“Nothing.” Gabriel rumbles in a defeated tone after an hour and a half of his search. Dawn is approaching, and he knows that in a few minutes, the lights will brighten and people will be awake. Patrols will switch with an influx of fresh, alert Talon lackeys, making this all the more difficult. Moreover, given the nature of hubs, he's trapped here, with no real vents that actually escape the facility. He decides to check the interrogation rooms, to see who they're keeping there.

On his way, he spots someone.

It's a Talon medic, as indicated by her short, grey lab coat and a ranking ID on her arm. The details of the woman hardly matter, as he's more interested in what's in her hand. It looks like medication. They had patients here- injured operatives. Where was she going, and who was she taking that to? He needed to know. Silently, he follows her down the hall, using an air duct overhead to keep up, and keep his black cloud out of sight. She leaves the infirmary entirely, instead, making her way down to the quarters, which is especially familiar to Gabe, having walked down these halls before.

Eventually, she stops at a door, offers two knocks, then lets herself in. There's an operative on a bed, reclining with a broken leg, it appears, hooked up to an IV, but otherwise, the room is normal. He's on the mend for an extended period of time, it seems.

This must be where they're taking them now, he presumes.

“ _Reyes. You need to get out, and soon. It will be daylight.”_ Sombra's voice echoes into his head.

“ _Copy. I'm on my way.”_ he replies quietly, beginning to wheel away.

But then he hears something.

Something... Totally unexpected.

 

_“Pain... Without Love... Pain... I can't get enough.”_

That voice... The...

_Accent._

Without a word or sound, Gabriel moves forward, slipping through the ducts, following the sound that echoes down them.

“ _Reyes!_ _What are you doing! You need to stop. Now! You'll risk being compromise-”_ Sombra sounds frantic. But...

_Click._ Gabriel has removed the small device from his ear, silencing it. He needs to hear more of the song. A song he used to sing now and then. A song that had meant so much to him... One of the few things he had remembered as Reaper.

“ _Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all...”_

 

It couldn't be.

_It couldn't be._

 

Gabriel has arrived at the source of the sound and filtered into the quarters without thinking. His body solidifies in one of the black corners of the room, near a dresser by the door. Though the room is pitch black, the bed is occupied with a shape, hourglass and tattooed, pale blue, long navy hair. New scars riddle her lower torso and her spine, which faces Gabriel.

 

“ _Anger, and agony... Are better... Than misery.”_

 

_Amélie_

_The Widowmaker._

 

Gabriel feels the blood in his veins freeze. There are bottles of alcohol scattered all over the room. She's stoic, miming like some kind of broken music box. Her voice cracks with dryness, despite the water and food that has been left for her on a nightstand, ignored. She lays in the dark, her yellow eyes away from him.

Rage overflows in Reaper's mind, then his heart. Amélie. His friend. She wasn't dead.

_She wasn't dead!_

_He left her when she was hurt._

_She had survived the fall._

_He abandoned her..._

For Overwatch.

 

Angela let him do this. Sombra had to have known. Jack let him be oblivious. They all had. They knew this. They knew she was alive and deliberately didn't tell him.

Sombra's frantic words echo in his mind from seconds before he turned her off.

They did not want him to know this. Moreover... She wasn't in a good place. She never drank this much before, when he knew her. She rarely sang, let alone like this, alone in the dark, singing his song- the song she learned from him. His hands tighten into fists so much that he can feel his own talons prick into his skin, making him bleed. He wants to scream in his rage, but he can't.

_Overwatch. They did this. They deceived him. They allowed this to happen!_

 

Widowmaker has gone very, very still in the room.

She senses someone there, though she doesn't know who. Her breathing has changed, and the singing has stopped. Gabriel can't stand this. Just as she starts to roll over, to see what disturbs her, he evaporates and is gone. In the darkness of the room, she can't see his shadows, and is left bewildered.

“ _Perhaps I'm just going crazy.”_ She whispers to herself.

 

Gabriel has already fled back through the facility, rushed towards the door that Sombra opens the second she sees him. Without a word, he returns to the ship, and wraiths through its very mechanics, reforming on the other side. Stalking towards Sombra aggressively, his face is hard-set, hidden behind his mask.

“ _Oh, god. Good, there you are-”_ Sombra is relieved at first, until Gabriel suddenly wraps his entire left hand around her throat and abruptly lifts her out of her chair, shoving her against the nearest side wall of the ship. The hacker gives an audible cry and her eyes are wide with terror.

“ _YOU._ ” He seethes with so much rage that he sounds truly demonic.

“PUT HER DOWN, REYES.” Ana shouts, already aiming a rifle at him.

“ _You knew!”_ He snarls so loudly that the other two are afraid that he'll blow their cover. “You _KNEW Amélie was alive and deliberately kept it from me-”_ Smoke plumes out of him like a forge, his eyes are bright red, like livid embers. Glaring at Ana, he doesn't back down. “You both did- you _all_ did. You expected me to trust you- to believe you!? How dare you. How _dare you_.” He snarls, talons tightening on Sombra's throat. She now gasps for air. “You let me believe she was dead. I suppose it was easier, wasn't it? You all get what you want- a helpful _asset_ , putting a weakness in Talon, letting Widowmaker _suffer_ so that you could get to me, so that you could use me-”

“It isn't like that at all, Reyes! Put her down at once, I am commanding you.”

“ _You don't command me.”_ He growls, suddenly releasing Sombra only to throw her aside, who yelps in pain, and his hand raises, aiming a shotgun at Ana's head.

“WAIT.” Sombra yells, scrambling to her feet and suddenly projecting a hologram between them. It's a picture. It's the one Jesse showed Gabe that night in the car, of them altogether, back in the day before the fall. “This is why, Gabriel.”

It made him stop, and his heart steeled, tense and hurt. “We did this for you. Not for us. Not to defeat Talon. Not to make Widow suffer, but to have this.”

Still, Gabriel is quiet. Ana and he are still pointing guns at each other.

“But she DID suffer, Sombra- how can you stand by so... so complacent with it! You knew her, just like I did. She was one of your friends-”

“No. No, Gabe. I wasn't. Widowmaker never trusted me. You were her only friend. She suffered only because there was no other way.”

“We didn't know she was alive when the balcony fell, Gabriel. We had to leave. We assumed she was dead, and with the Russian government interfering, we had to go. We couldn't stay there. You found us, and we had to make a decision, so we took you with us.” Ana is explaining, her voice hard but sad at the same time. “It was never intentional, Gabriel, I promise you.”

“We didn't even know she was alive until a week afterwards. Talon refused to talk, because they didn't know if she would survive or not. I didn't find out until they moved her out of the emergency infirmary into a... rudimentary recovery room. She was hurt... Badly, Gabe. I didn't know if she would live. There was no point to tell you she had survived if she was simply going to die a few days later... After that... It was out of our hands. We had to wait and see what would happen... But there's more-”

“Stop talking.” Gabriel hisses. His skin feels hot beneath his mask, feverishly incensed. “You all kept this from me. Deliberately... You knew she was alive before we came on this mission. You must expect me to kill her-”

“No, Gabriel. That was never part of the mission.” Ana rebukes. “We didn't even know she was going to be here.”

“Oh? And what do you suppose was going to happen when I _did_ eventually run into her in the field? Did you think that I would be so loyal to Overwatch that I would simply end her without a thought? The only reason I am _here_ was because _she_ was the only thing I had in Talon worth losing.” he hisses. Slowly though, he lowers his weapon, and Ana does the same.

“No, Gabriel... We knew you were her friend... But..” Ana looks to Sombra to fill in the gaps.

“Look... Maybe we should just talk about this at home-”

“No. We're going to talk about this here, now, before I leave with you lying fucks again.” His voice is raspy and harsh.

“Look. Gabe-” Sombra starts.

“Don't you call me that- like you _know_ me.” The man oozes aggression, and the last thing they want is to set him off again.

“Reyes... Look. There's something you need to know... About Widow. After the fight... You were gone. She thinks you're dead. All of Talon does. She hasn't been the same... She's drinking, a lot. She's sort of reverted.”

“Reverted?” He growls. “ _Explain._ ”

“To the way she was when Talon first took her. Brainwashed. No emotions, no feeling, almost no memories. She's not the same person she was when you knew her. She's deadlier now. More violent. Unstable. They've even taken her off of the council until they can prove that she's... Sane... More or less.”

“Sombra, she was singing a song.”

“Yeah... She does that now. She's broken.”

“No, _YOU don't understand._ ” He seethes, turning to face Sombra. “That was MY thing. I sang that song. She thinks I'm dead. She remembers. She's like this because of _me._ ”

Widowmaker was in mourning. It was painfully obvious now, and Gabriel felt like absolute shit.

He had abandoned her when she fell, when she got so hurt. He was so convinced that she had died that he gave up on her- Words that Jack had mentioned the day prior echo in his head, making his stomach tighten. Now, Widowmaker was an emotionless, drunk, broken wretch... Because of him. Because he left to pursue his own answers, leaving her behind. Her one good friend. In hindsight, perhaps he meant more to her than he realized. Perhaps she _really_ cared about him, but just didn't know how, or how to express it.

And where was he?

Chasing after an old, blond soldier from his past who had already let him go. Someone who had already moved on, as Gabriel should have done. Someone who willingly kept this information from him. Did Gabriel think of Widow that way? An actual, romantic interest? A possibility?

… No. As close as he had become to her, she wasn't a solution. She wouldn't make him happy.

Gabriel felt like he was going to be sick. He felt betrayed, guilty and foolish. Whole heartedly, he had bought into what it was that Overwatch had told him. With ease, he had let them tell him what was what, and he had accepted all the answers without any real questions, so long as he got more of those happy memories back...

Sombra and Ana were still and quiet. Gabriel was still infuriated, but he had to think. What had been done was done... And he couldn't undo it now. Widowmaker- Amélie Lacroix, formerly. Who was she now?

He reached up, removing his mask so that he could glare at each of the two with him in turn.

“You paint yourselves as heroes... But you're blind. Blinded by your own needs, your own selfish desires. I don't _care_ if you wanted me here. You all let me go. You all moved on from me. You all accepted I was gone, and then moved along. Now here you are, using me to your advantage... Telling yourselves you couldn't have done anything...” he pauses.

“… But she's still in there. She hasn't moved on from me. She hasn't accepted my death. She is _broken_ because of it. You'd have to be blind not to see that... But here you are telling yourselves whatever you want that will help you sleep at night... Know this. She is _still_ suffering. She's _still_ in pain. You may have saved me, but in so doing, you have damned her. You will live with that now. I'm done with this stupid mission. With this stupid company. Let's go, I'll get my things and be on my way.”

“Reyes, if you leave, you'll never find redemption.” Ana urges.

“I am so far beyond redemption that there are no angels who save me, Ana. This is over. I'm done.” He says, ghosting back into normal clothing and throwing up his hood. His shades are put on, and he retires to the farthest corner of the ship away from them, unable to even look at them. He says nothing for the entire flight back to Italy, letting his mind wander, and brood, unable to help his hideous feelings over Amélie.

 

~

 

A couple weeks have passed since the initial attack. Almost all of their injuries are healed over, leaving fleshy, fading scars. By the look of things, they're about to make a bunch more. The walking tripod laser-faces have been given a name in the last week, and Soldiers now call them Tritelum Units, given in response to how deadly their bladed legs tend to be up close. There's two of them now, stationed up ahead. Gabriel's team is dug in deep behind a sort of make-shift trench of fallen debris. They're somewhere on the outside of Indianapolis, fighting alongside other SEP Soldiers like a full unit. The Tritelum can be dealt with, as their guns fire in six second bursts, with a long cool down time in between of about fifteen seconds, but when their guns go off, they obliterate anything in front of them. Bodies are turned to ash, stone into rubble, metal into molten liquid. Nothing survives them. In order to fire these powerful weapons, their three bladed legs dig into the dirt to hold them firm, allowing them to handle the laser steadily. This makes them susceptible to flanking attacks, one of Gabriel's favorite tactics. Merrick is out of this fight, still dealing with getting his new prosthetic properly adjusted.

Alas, their lacking member and the Tritelum units are not the problem they're facing, but a row of Bastions on either side of them, more or less preventing them from doing any serious work.

“We have to break this line.” Gabriel yells over the sound of gunfire. The States have launched their Army and Marines to help with the gunfight, so now and then, the roar of an engine screams overhead and lays down a line of fire that the Soldiers are forced to look out for. “We can't do that without the air support. We need to distract those bastions, and get those Tritelums to look the other way while our jets land their shots.”

“How are we going to do that _and_ survive?” Val asks hesitantly. She doesn't spook well, but Gabe can tell she's a little shaken, perhaps not looking forward to being the next Soldier fitted for some kind of... Replacement part.

“Bennison's team has three long range units, trained on the bigger guns. We need to give them a chance to get in position so that they can take down the bastions. We'll split up into two groups. Val, Ryan, you two are going to head left from this position- run as fast as you possibly can. Make sure you use whatever cover you can to your advantage. I want you to drop two smoke grenades on your way. Make sure you keep your masks on. Eddie, Jack and I will go Right. We will set up a flank and use helix rockets to draw fire from the Bastions. Then, you'll do the same on the other side. Our jet will drop in, and drop the Tritelums.”

“Sir, are we-”

“Do not _question_ me, Val.” How many times did he have to say this? Hadn't she watched what had happened to Jack when he questioned Gabe? “Run like hell, and keep your head down. Shoot when you have a safe shot, and not a second sooner or later. Got it?”

“Sir, yes sir.” They chorus. Gabriel calls in the drop for fourty seconds. That would give them plenty of time to move, distract, and get out. The smoke grenades would be both a distraction, cover, and a signal for the drop. Nodding at his team, they bolt. He, Jack and Eddie all dart right. The second they leave their cover, the bastion units are on them, hailing bullets around them. But, Soldiers are fast. They're made for this. The two smoke bombs go off on the other side, and the bastions immediately shift position in response. Gabe, Jack and Eddie all stop and wheel, pummeling helix rockets into the closest bastion, who goes down immediately. Now, the omnics are twisted, not knowing which way to look.

Eddie suddenly cries out and goes down, blood oozing from his upper arm and shoulder. Gabriel growls, narrowly missing the same line of fire. “Get him out of here, Jack!” he barks, keeping cover fire up. Jack throws his rifle to sling over his shoulder and grips Eddie beneath the arms, despite the way he screams when Jack drags him back.

“Gabe we've gotta go!” Jack roars. The jet is coming in. Gabe screams into his comm device. “ALL OUT, ALL OUT. GET TO COVER.” He too stashes his rifle, then grabs Eddie's legs and they bolt, carrying him, darting to the cover of a nearby building. Instinctively, all three of them hit the ground, covering their heads and necks. The roar of the jet engine screams into the air above them, and soon, heavy fire. The clang of metal and the horrifying, telling whir of the Tritelum's charging lasers are all they can hear now. Dust and dirt storms over them, choking them out. Gabriel is on his feet in seconds. One of the Tripods is down, but the other is still up... And now it's moving. Though the bastions here are all defeated, it still walks, and it's coming for them now, as if for revenge. Gabe can hear the harrowing sound of its metal, bladed, almost spider-like legs clicking along the broken cement and asphalt, digging into the substrate with each petrifying step it takes closer to them. There's no time to grab Eddie and run... Gabriel struggles with the decision. He can't hear Val and Ryan anymore, and his heart sinks.

“We have to go!” He shouts to Jack. But Jack, looking down at Eddie, who has lost consciousness, looks back at Gabe. He shakes his head.

“I can't leave him like this! We can't-”

“We have no choice!” Gabe roars.

“YES. WE DO.” Jack screams back, and suddenly he's running from cover.

Gabriel's heart stops in his chest.

“JACK! NO!” He screams, terror working its way into his voice, along with a few immediate tears. Whirring picks up, and Gabriel expects to hear Jack explode any second now. He grabs Eddie and with a show of strength, hauls him up onto a shoulder and launches himself away. He sprints as fast as he's able, trying to get the soldier to cover.

“Immediate Evac- Evac, I have a wounded Soldier, possibly more.” He reads off his location, leaving Eddie in a secluded, safe corner between debris that might shelter him. Immediately there after, he charges away once more. Back into the fray. He _can not_ leave Jack to die to that thing, that beast. _They wouldn't take another one from him,_ he swore. When he arrives, he's stunned to see that Jack is still somehow going toe to toe with this thing. One of its legs sits at an odd angle, but still it ambles forward. Its laser charges up, and fires, narrowly missing Jack, who's already bleeding from his temple, bruised and scratched up. But there's a look in his eyes, a determination that Gabe hasn't seen before. Swinging his rifle around, he takes aim at the tripod-based monster, but... Then something happens that Gabe didn't expect.

As soon as the laser goes off, Jack charges from his cover, sprinting directly towards the thing.

_No. No no no. Jack, what are you doing?! You fool- I need you!_ Gabe's mind screams.

But then, Jack jumps, putting himself almost face to face with the creature, pummeling raw ammunition into its laser, disrupting it. When he lands, he sweeps his boot out, jamming it into the joint of one of the other legs. The thing begins to topple, and Jack rolls onto his back.

Blood.

That was what Gabe remembers. The third, and final leg of the Tritelum comes down, impaling Jack through his gut. Gabriel suddenly yells, which causes the thing to look his way with what remains of its mangled head. As it does so, Jack, grunting and spitting up blood, lifts his rifle and lights off three helix rockets directly into its chassis.

The bot stops. Stills, and Gabe holds his breath.

It begins to sway, and Gabe does not remember running as fast before as he does now. He hurdles through the air, catching and tackling the monstrosity to the side, off and away from Jack, all except for that leg, which has ripped off, and still impales him, pinning him to the ground. Though the impact was harsh and Gabe's in pain, he can think about nothing beyond Jack. Scrambling up from his fall, he crawls towards Jack. There are tears in Gabe's eyes, he's frantic.

“Jack... Jack.” He stammers, then screams into his comm. “WHERE IS THE FUCKING EVAC? I NEED PICKUP NOW!”

“ _On route, captain. Headcount?”_

_“_ Two down, at least. Val? Ryan? Report!”

The reply is cracked and muffled.

“Com- cu- not...” _Tchk. “Bleeding, Sir. Need evac.”_ It's Val. She sounds disturbed.

“Command! We have three, maybe four down, still in the red zone!”

“Copy, Captain Reyes. Touchdown in ten seconds.”

 

Ten seconds feels like ten years to Gabriel, who hovers over Jack. The blond isn't saying much, but his bright blue eyes stare directly at Gabe. There's a small, faint smile on his lips.

“W-What?” Gabe stammers.

“Your eyes are doing that thing again Gabe. You should probably stop that.”

“Shut up. Stop talking. You need to stay awake, save your energy. The hell were you thinking, running out here. You could have died. You still might...”

Gabe's eyes are fastened on the protruding metal jammed into Jack's torso. But, Jack reaches up, despite the pain, and grips his chin.

“Someone's got to be the hero, Gabe.”

“Well not you, goddamnit. I've got other plans for you.”

“Yeah?” Jack coughs. There's blood in it. “What're those?”

The rush of wind and engines sound. A dozen attendants rush out, grabbing first Eddie, then heading towards he and Jack, and further on To Val and Ryan.

“If you survive, I'll tell you.” Gabe seems to promise.

 

A week passes, and Gabriel has barely left Jack's bedside. There's a healing scab on his stomach and back, but with the constant stream of medications they have on him, Gabe's assured that he'll be on his feet the following day. They barely talk. Eddie is patched up and back on his feet long before Jack is. Ryan took a few hard hits to his right arm, and though he'll make it, it'll be a few more days before he can go anywhere.

Walcott decides that with all the injuries, it would be best to give them a few more days to heal before they go anywhere, especially since Merrick is finally coming to terms with his missing ankle and foot, now a work of metallic, robotic art.

 

Being at the SEP feels like a vacation now as compared to the battlefields. Everyone's worn and tired, and most of the basic protocols have gone right out the window. Many of the assistants and officials inside the SEP can't be bothered to enforce basic rules, like making sure that Jack doesn't stay the night in Gabriel's room. Bennison still hasn't come back from his part of the mission, which, in reality, is a good thing. If he was here, it would mean someone, or several people, in his Team had been injured or killed.

But now Jack's here, on his feet at long last. It's after hours, and Gabe invites Jack in for a 'talk'. Needless to say, it doesn't happen, and they end up kissing. Gabe has seen part of this memory before, the feel of Jack's fingers on his chest, slipping under his shirt. He's warm, and Gabe finds it comforting. They enter the bathroom at long last, and here, the pleasantries fall apart even further. As soon as the door is shut and locked, Gabe's hand latches onto the back of Jack's neck.

“ _Stupid boy._ ” He growls aggressively, but it's tainted with lust and minor fear and relief, and Jack can tell the distance. “ _Nearly got yourself killed. What would I have done then?”_ Gabe asks, his voice deepening. He had been truly afraid that he might lose the man, and now, this frustration expresses itself in his movements. He pushes Jack forward against a wall, the cold tile kissing at the blond's skin as Gabe begins to undress him. He's rough, and a few clothing stitches pop, but as soon as his hand comes near to that healing injury, he softens, showing a true gentility that Jack admires him for, despite having not seen it before.

“Gotten yourself off, I'd guess.” Jack smartly replies, smirking as his cheek is pushed into the bathroom tile. Gabriel grins and leans in, pressing his lips against Jack's spine, then nipping into him with a small, sharp bite. “ _Ow_.” Jack winces, but he likes the pain when it comes from events like this. Gabe's hot breath is on his neck, his scruffy jawline tickling at the blond's skin. Rough, callused hands slip around Jack and begin to unfasten his pants, which mildly shocks him. Gabe hasn't done anything more than palm him through his trousers a few times in the middle of heated kissing sessions, so this was different. “W-What are we doing?” Jack asks abruptly, all but stammering as Gabriel shoves down the hem of his pants. Somewhat embarrassingly, Jack's swollen cock slips free of his boxers, begging for attention, twitching against the cold tile to which he's pinned with nothing but the Captain's body behind him. He waits for an answer, but Gabe seems to like playing with his prey, and simply laughs. “ _Gabe?”_ Jack asks again, concern coming into his voice.

“ _Calm down, Carino.”_ Gabriel practically purrs, drawing his lips back up against Jack's neck. His lips part and he bites down again, licking against the flesh. Each small bite makes Jack utter a faint yelp or a lustful grunt, his thoughts drifting away from the horrid war they were in and instead, the trouble he was getting into instead with the man behind him. Ultimately, his hips grind back against Gabe's, able to feel the trapped member his behind his zipper, demanding release. Calm down? Gabe can see that Jack is practically on fire. He wants this. Needs this. They both do... But... “ _Not what you think.”_ Gabe warns, not wanting Jack to get his hopes up. As expected, the blond groans. “You smell like medicine, rubbing alcohol and dirt...” Gabe murmurs, then lifts his lips to Jack's ear.

“ _I like my toys clean, Rubito.”_

Jack groans and shudders beneath Gabe, shrinking slightly from where hes pinned, making the Mexican stand taller than him, if only a little, and that suits the dark man just fine. Roughly then, he shoves Jack's pants and boxers down further, then cants his head down at the boots. He needs them off. Jack, without even needing a word, obeys immediately, stepping out of the boots, pants and boxers in a hurry and all but ripping off his shirt. Suddenly, he's facing Gabe, who is still somehow mostly dressed, but his tenting arousal is obvious. Gabe's eyes are glued onto the healing, grizzly injury on Jack's torso... A small look of caution flickers through them before chestnut stare lands back on Jack's sapphires.

Wetting his lips, Jack moves forward, hastily gripping the man's hips and pushing him backwards, finding them up against the sink. Again, their lips meet like crashing waves, and they moan into each other. Tongues mingle as Jack's hands worm their way under Gabriel's shirt, tugging it, almost seeming to beg for it to be off. Chuckling, dark brows loft at Jack. “ _Look at you... You're so eager. Be careful, Jackie. Someone might think you're desperate.”_

_“I don't care.”_ Jack snaps back needily. “ _Take your fucking clothes off, Reyes.”_ he demands. Another knee-melting chuckle rolls out of Gabriel, who finally removes the shirt, putting himself on display. His hands drop to his belt, feet working at his boots, but before he can do either, Jack has crowded into him again. Lips eagerly taste the side of his neck, collarbone, then dare to venture lower onto his chest. Gabe barely manages to get his pants undone before the eager blond is jerking at them to come off along with everything beneath them. Boots drop with them, and once again, Gabe finds Jack's head nestled in close around his thickened cock. It isn't but a few seconds before a familiar warm, wet mouth slips around it. Eyes pinch shut and brows knit together.

“ _God damn.”_ He murmurs hotly, his hands falling back onto the sink. For the moment, he's content to simply let Jack have at him, and for a moment it's easy to forget that the Soldier's injured. Though it starts slow, it isn't long before Jack angles his head in such a way now that Gabe struggles to keep himself quiet, and for a moment he urges the blond to stop. “It'll be too loud- we can't have them finding out-” He insists, but...

“ _I'm not fucking done with you, Reyes.”_ It's rare, but nice to see how powerful Jack can be, even in a submissive position, even injured, and as though it's a guilty pleasure, Gabe likes it. There's a certain sense of pride in being used like this, of being the object of someone's lust, someone's pleasure so thoroughly. Hearing Jack get rough is enough to make him precum, a detail that Jack notices and seems to capitalize on. The pale soldier's head angles a little more, so much so that he can hit all of Gabe's favorite nerves along the way. Gabe begins to moan, and soon, his right hand cant help itself. Fastening onto those perfect, golden tufts on Jack's head, he roughly allows him to suck to his pleasure. Though, as he gets closer to his own climax, he struggles to keep control. His hand tightens on Jack's hair and his hips begin to buck, forcing his length a little deeper than before, further into Jack's throat. Managing to suffer down the urge to gag and repressing the urge to breathe for just a moment, he swallows down, hard, allowing Gabe to feel the constricting muscle against his tip. Hands grip and pry into Gabe's scar-flecked flesh, urging him both to back up and not to stop all at the same time.

It's enough to send Gabriel careening into bliss. He moans, loudly, a rough, primal sound that echoes out of him as Jack suddenly grips his hips, holding him firm as he finishes. The tell-tale jerking gives Gabe away, and soon, Jack drinks down all the seed Gabe can give him, even moaning into it, brows pinched.

Strings of saliva and cum break between his lips and Gabe as he finally pulls away. There's a wide, devil-may-care smugness settled on Gabe's lips, charming and handsome. Gabe knows what Jack's expecting now- to be sent to his room, as had happened before. But... Not tonight.

“ _Now we're both dirty.”_ Gabe murmurs in a seductive tone, releasing Jack's hair to instead grip his chin. Urging him to stand, they kiss again, and Gabe walks Jack backward, directly into the waiting shower. He shuts the glass door behind him, then starts the water flowing. It's cold at first, but the two seem entirely unfazed by it at this point.

The captain pools soap into his hand and begins to lather the blond up, cleaning himself off in the process. Jack does much the same, but as they're rinsing off, Gabriel leans forward again, his chest pressing against Jack's spine. Once more, he has Jack pinned, but at least this time, the shower has warmed up the wall, not that it had terribly bothered the blond in the first place.

“ _I think you missed a spot.”_ Gabe rumbles, steam from the water rolling forward, carried by already hot breath onto the cup of Jack's ear.

Jack feels his breath hitch in his chest. A hand has moved away from his hip and has instead slipped onto the firm round sculpt of his ass. It doesn't stop there, and teases at the cleft between the two. Gabriel's excited, having wanted to do this for some time. Every time before, they'd had to stop, or pull away, or go to bed. Tonight? No. They had a few hours tonight, and a few days before they had to be anywhere or do anything. His hand dips down further, and Jack's mouth drops open.

“Gabe I...”

“ _... Do you want me to stop?_ ” Gabe whispers.

There's a pause. Jack isn't sure. He seems... concerned.

“No! No..” He says immediately, stammering. “It's just that... I'm not... Uh... Prepared. I haven't... exactly... been...” _Training for it._ Gabe knows the words before Jack speaks them. Gabe seems to self-consciously look at his own hands. They were large, powerful and callused... But they were his, and they were the only ones he had.

“ _Then I guess we'll have to be gentle, wont we?”_ He whispers. Jack shudders nervously, and nods. He looks away. Gabe allows a little of the soap to aid him as his hand slips lower, now daring to tease across the surface of Jack's tight opening. It's almost enough to make his cock jerk back to life, despite having just gotten off. All the same, he groans with want, hotly exhaling into Jack's ear. “ _You do want this, don't you, Jack?”_ It's a seductive taunt, but he also wants to be sure, not wanting to overstep his bounds, all the same. Jack nods immediately. “ _Say it, Jack. I need to hear you say it.”_

Stammering again, Jack opens his mouth. “ _For fuck's sake, Reyes. Do it. Get in me.”_ He growls. It's all the invitation that Gabe needs. His smile is wide, devious and needy. His middle finger pushes in at once, to the first knuckle, making Jack wince, but his legs spread, once again making him shorter than the other. Water rolls down his back and between them, further slickening the soap, and making it all the easier for Gabe to get in. He's gotten more eager, and pushes in further. This time, Jack's mouth drops open and he gasps.

“ _Oh god.”_

_“Good?”_ Gabe asks.

“ _Fuck yeah. Don't stop.”_ Jack demands. Gabe is all too happy to oblige, allowing his finger to draw out, then push in again, this time a little more quickly. Finger curls, experimenting with the tightness of Jack's opening and the position of his prostate. The second he finds it, he knows, because the blond gasps against the tile, his eyes shut, brows tightened into a peak against each other. “ _Oh fuck, Gabe.”_ He pants. Gabriel can see the man's toes curl against the shower floor, and he smirks. It makes him brave enough to go further, and so he does, allowing the second knuckle to slip in, then further, until his palm touches Jack's ass, as far in as he could go. Dangling between his legs, Jack's neglected member oozes precum. It's a detail that Gabe learns about first hand, as his left hand slips around Jack's hip to slide onto the abandoned cock. The very touch makes Jack shudder and moan again, eyes now perpetually closed. Gabe begins to stroke him, moving almost in time with the toying of his finger, and every little sound Jack makes- the grunts, the faint words of praise, is music to his ears.

Finally, he dares to try another finger. It's slow at first, and pain works its way into the blond's voice, but it doesn't last long. Soon, Gabe is able to slip it in with the one beside it, and he curls them together, grinding his knuckles against the soldier's prostate in such a way that Jack is forced to bite down on his own lip to quiet himself, a task he struggles with. Before he knows it, he's moaning along with the blond, despite that the pleasure he gains from this is drastically different. To Gabe, it feels like he's taking something, giving something, and being given something all at the same time. It's invigorating, being in control of someone in such an intimate way like this... Knowing that he can make Jack feel this way, that he alone _does this_ to the otherwise rough, demanding, brave if sometimes foolish soldier. Making Jack vulnerable exhilarates him.

Minutes in, Jack is cumming all over his hand, begging him not to stop, panting hot air into the steam that swirls between them as Gabe's fingers drill into him, stroking him.

“ _G-Gabe. Please. Please I need this. Don't stop- Oh god...”_ He trails off. Jack's eyes open slowly and he exhales again. “ _Gabe, get in me.”_ He whispers.

“ _... I am.”_ He replies smoothly, smirking, but Jack shakes his head.

“ _No. No I mean... Please. Fuck me.”_

Those few words set Gabriel aflame. There is nothing he wants _more_ than to fuck Jack, and hearing the blond not only say it, but beg for it, drives him damn near insane... Like an animal. Jack may as well have been in heat, and Gabe's senses had picked up on it.

“You've already finished...” Gabe replies quietly, still stroking the man, milking out whatever he can get, liking the way over-stimulation seems to suit Jack, who's quivering, trembling beneath his grasp, putty in Gabe's hands.

“ _I don't care._ We might not get to- and I want to... _Please..._ ”

He's begging. _Begging._ Gabriel shakes his head, but his arms, his hands tremble on the man's frame. It's difficult to hold himself back. But, he's exhausted, and so is Jack, as well as healing, whether he wants to admit it or not.

“I can't.” Gabe finally says, drawing his fingers out at long last. Jack seems to sigh with relief and satisfaction, but there's a sad groan on his lips. Gabriel begins to clean off his hands and body entirely, explaining further. “I don't have protection, and as you said, you're not trained. It would hurt you too much. You'd rip. I don't exactly want to explain your waddling.”

Jack relents, heeding Gabriel's advise, but it's clear he still wants more.

“Hey... Uh. Can I stay here tonight?” Jack asks.

“... Jack.”

“No? Okay. Sorry... Sir.” He knows they'd get in trouble again if he did, or at least, that there was a risk of it. He's let down. Gabe doesn't like the dour face, so as soon as Jack steps out of the shower, he finishes rinsing himself and stalks out after him. Jack has his pants on already, and straightens his hair in a mirror. Gabe slips behind him, looming over at him through the steam, through the mirror.

“ _If you stayed, I'd be afraid I'd fuck you anyway. I don't want to break you, Morrison... Not yet, anyway. So you should go.”_ His voice is deeper, almost malevolent, similar to how he is when he's angry... But to Jack, it's arousing and he suffers down a shudder. He looks down, sucking in a breath, his hands curling against the sides of the sink.

“Alright.” he says, pulling on his shirt and grabbing his shoes. As he turns to go, Gabe snaps his fingers around Jack's jaw and pulls him in close for another kiss. It's a dominant, possessive gesture. It's short, but hot all the same, tainted with lust that they both still have.

 

“Goodnight, Sir.” Jack says with a smile.

 

“Goodnight, Seventy-Six.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! 
> 
> Now, I'm set to move in a couple weeks, so this next few weeks is going to be hell for me in terms of writing chapters. I will try my best to have them out on time, but as such I haven't had a whole lot of time to do writing. I hope you guys understand!
> 
> I will keep you updated, as usual!


	23. Caffeine

 

~

 

Betrayal. Gabriel still feels it in his bones. How many people in Overwatch knew about this? When they arrive back at base, he heads to his quarters, speaking to no one, even turning down any requests to meet anyone anywhere, or allow anyone into his room. For a long while, he broods, sitting in the dark of his room, debating over what he's learned. Widowmaker is alive, and she's in pain. Overwatch kept this from him deliberately. She's clearly torn up over him, as she thinks he's dead too. Should he go back? Try to help her? If it's true that she's reverted, and that she's not the same, she may not even see him the same way anymore. Perhaps she wouldn't even want to see him. After all, as she laid there, crushed, almost dying, he left her. He left... Then walked himself right into Overwatch... For Jack, who can't seem to decide how much or how little he wants to do with Gabriel. It's a constant roller-coaster that Gabe doesn't care for.

 _Let Jack make his own decisions_ , Gabe thinks. It's time he made his own anyway. This wasn't fiji, and he wasn't a prisoner anymore. The answers from Talon could be found without Overwatch's help. Maybe, somehow, help Widow without them too. Fetch Jesse and get out of here-... Jesse. Did Jesse know? Had Jesse kept this from him too? Was Jesse used as a tool to keep him placated? Would Jesse actually want to come with him if he left? Gabriel has so many questions, and most of them are for the cowboy. Reluctantly, the following morning, he leaves his room, stepping just next door to buzz the comm on Jesse's door. It comes back with a beep, and the scrolling holo-screen text replies for the cowboy, who seems out at the moment.

Operative: McCree, Jesse. Deployed. Due to return: 3 Days.

_Fuck._

The blue scrolling light flickers out, leaving Gabriel standing in a dim hallway, eyes down-turned as he thinks.

Jesse wasn't even here, and wouldn't be for a while. Gabriel is disappointed, but he made a promise to the man, and he's not about to go back on that now... At least not until he finds out whether or not Jesse was in on it. Cabin Fever never suited Gabriel, so he wheels away and stalks through the base towards the cafe, ignoring anyone and everyone who dares to speak to him, even Angela, who tries to reach out to him about feeding. When he brushes past her and does not reply, she stares at him, confused but quiet, as she stares at his back as he passes. Once at the cafe, everyone else there seems to just _know_ to avoid him. Probably because he pulled a gun out here just a few days before, on Sombra. Hardly the best impression to make, in hindsight. As was to be expected, he sits in the back, in the dark, sipping his drink. No one disturbs him.

He's content to look down into his mug, brooding as people come and go from the cafe. Eyes hard, rage still mildly pumping through his veins, planning his next few days, and what may come after that, assuming he doesn't leave in a vicious storm of anger.

It's about half an hour in before there's suddenly a commotion up at the bar counter.

What had been a small, polite conversation before is suddenly very loud.

“THE FUCK YOU MEAN? It's fuckin' cash, ain't it? What's that? Oh, OH. Right. Right. It's not a fuckin' _Euro._ Well fuckin' excuse me! It ain't like there was a cash exchange built into the fuckin' dropship was there, ey? Can't you take my fuckin' money?”

She has the trashiest language Gabriel has heard in a long time, and as he looks on, he realizes he's seen her before. Not incredibly tall, but punky and intimidating. Combat boots, red hair, gloves with studs on them and a red vest... A neck tattoo on her spine that he can see clearly now- it's a maple leaf, which gives her faint Canadian accent some explanation. But, she talks like a junker.

It's the little fighter from Owellton. The one who'd been fighting minutes before Gabe damn near destroyed the place. She was missing her brass knuckles now, and her red vest. She wears worn black jeans with holes in them, and a dark purple tank-top,the red vest, and a black hoodie sits tied around her waist about three sizes too large.

His eyes lock onto the scene as it unfolds. The barista looks terrified, and Gabe starts to take personal bets in his mind about how many teeth this man is about to lose because he won't take her currency.

Suddenly, she showers him in it. She chucks a wad of cash and coins at the poor, dark haired barista. “Fuckin' wanker.” She snorts before storming out, stomping, even kicking over a trash can as she leaves. Gabriel smirks despite his bad mood. He moves to stand, taking his own drink and sauntering up to the counter, footsteps like the bells of an execution, everyone is still and seems to stare at him, curious and terrified of what might happen. Her drink is there, totally abandoned, made and ownerless. _Carter_ is written on the side in black ink. As Gabe looks at him, the barista seems like he might just wet himself.

“This her drink?” Gabriel rasps. The man nods quickly, not wanting to upset anyone else, let along the notorious terrorist in their midst. Then, the shade starts shuffling into his hoodie, eventually producing enough money for the exchange, drops it on the counter, then waves his hand. “Keep the change.” He says, snatching up the drink and moving out after her.

She's a ways ahead, but he can see her stopped at an intersection of halls, trying to make sense of a map of the base, and failing. She curses beneath her breath, glaring at the map like it has personally offended her.

“Carter, is it?” Gabriel asks, several feet away, where he stops, not wanting to get too close, or startle her. All the same, he's holding his drink, and hers, but only one of them shows her name on the side. The girl snaps her attention over at him at once. Her eyes are hazel, piercing and sharp.

“Who the fuck'er yo-” Her attention drops to the drink he holds. “Oh... Right.” She seems a little taken aback by the gesture, and mildly regrets her words, shifting slightly in her position. “Whatever. Thanks... You didn't have to, these fuckers...”

“Yeah. I know.” He relates, holding the drink out to her as she tentatively approaches.

“Who're you?” She asks abruptly as she looks at him. She seemed to be searching his face, trying to identify the source of her recognition.

“Just someone on his way out.” He rumbles, then turns to go. As he paces away, shadow drifts off of his person, clashing with the bright white and grey walls the base's halls are made of. Her eyes widen with the sudden realization.

“Wait.” She stops him, and he slows, just barely. “I know you. You're him. You're that guy, aren't you?”

“That depends.” Gabe replies, his back to her.

“The guy who trashed Owellton. The terrorist. Reaper.” The words aren't offered with fear. She doesn't seem afraid at all.

“Used to be.”

“The hell are you doin' here?” She asks, staring at him. He reaches up with one hand to draw up his hood, impeding her view somewhat.

“Nothing. As I said, on my way out.” And then he strides off, offering no more explanation. He's unable to see the way she stares at him in mild admiration.

“Wait- can you... Uh... How do I get to hall... Uh.. 13B, Q153?” She's reading off of a paper someone has handed her, crumpled and wrinkled, but still new, marking her as a new recruit. The sound of her voice echoes in the somewhat abandoned hallway and he stills again. His head slightly turns, talking over his shoulder, recalling the map with ease in his mind.

“Up two floors. Second corridor on the right. You'll be near the end.” Then, he resumes, this time with no sign of stopping, the sound of his stride offering some atmosphere to the otherwise sterile, quiet seeming base.

“Thanks.” She replies if somewhat quietly down the hall at him as he departs, leaving her standing in the walkway, drink in hand. Maybe everyone here _isn't_ so terrible, she thought.

 

Three days. It seemed a hell of a lot longer than it was, and though Gabriel had assignments on his holo-screen, he seldom went to them. One called for a brief on what he'd discovered at Talon HQ, but he didn't bother to go. Thus far, no one had pushed him. On the rare occasion, he left his room for another drink, or to sit in the enviro-dome for the heat. Katie approached him once, sat nearby, but said nothing. She seemed to understand that he preferred the quiet right now, and though she was part of Overwatch, his quarrel wasn't with her. She couldn't have possibly known that Widowmaker was still alive. Even still, Gabriel wasn't talking, not even to her. How could he possibly know who he could trust when something this serious had been pulled over on him?

The training room was a welcome relief from his concerns, so he made his way there more than once. Deliberately waiting until no one else was around, he'd set it up similar to the way Jesse had before. Moving light targets, but more of them, drifting and floating around the chamber with its blue barricaded walls like pinballs. Tonight was no different than before, dressed in just his casual clothing, Gabriel rolled his shoulders and craned his neck, letting it pop. Fingers shifted and soon tightened, latching onto still-forming shotguns. His chestnut eyes fastened onto the moving targets- easily nine of them- as they bounced around the interior of the chamber, across the counter from him. Fingers pushed up the settings, making them pick up pace, until they were a struggle to keep track of properly. Eyes lowered to the counter that separated him from them, meant to keep him safe from them, a barrier of light between the two, but, much like Reinhardt's shield, he could walk through it, where as any return fire couldn't... Was it safe to go through? They weren't set up to fire back, but for what he'd be doing... Well, it was the best option.

He slipped over the counter with ease, a palm pressing to the counter as he swung over his ghosting weight until he reformed on the other side of it, beyond the barrier, now caged in with the moving, mindless bots.

Then, all at once, he was in motion. His body twisted in ways it shouldn't, becoming smoke and sometimes even less, momentarily invisible just to reform somewhere else and open fire again. The sound was, as expected, horrendously loud, but the training chamber was made for this, and it disturbed no one beyond the walls. As he trained, flashes of the memories he'd seen before came back to him, infuriating him bit by bit, until he was in a fury. Bots died in seconds as if choked out by the black storm that his body was making inside the cube. Even the barrier seemed to struggle with the force of it when he became too intense, but to its credit, none of his shots got through it. Rage consumed him, and he used more and more of his energy until he felt as though he had nothing left.

_How did everything end up like this?_

When he finally came to a stop, he was in a crouch on the ground, panting, coated in a thin sheet of sweat. His skin felt like it was on fire, and he was understandably hungry. Using energy as freely as he was always had its costs, but tonight, he was not concerned. Tendrils of black death drifted off of him like steam from a hot spring. His anger seemed almost tangible.

At least, it did to the red head who had been standing there, leaning against the far wall in the shadow, for the last twenty minutes, unknowingly to Gabriel. Bots reformed and bounced around him as he knelt there, eyes down. Carter said nothing, only stared on.

He only noticed her out of his peripheral vision as a very slight movement presented itself. It was the shift of a lollipop, from the left of her mouth to the right that caught his attention. Eyes snapped up in an instant, still slightly red from his exertion. Christ, how long had it been? Was she waiting for this? For the chamber?

“Sorry.” he said at once, his voice a guttural, animal sort of tone, timbre tinted with his fury. He was shifting at once, Ghosting to a stand and seeping back across the counter like a thick cloud to reform on the other side. Carter shrugged nonchalantly, seeming unfazed by the display, but it was a ruse, she was obviously watching.

“Don't gotta be. Thanks for the show.”

“I didn't know you were waiting for it.”

“I wasn't.” She confesses, shrugging. Again, the lollipop stick changes sides on her mouth. It becomes clear that there hasn't been any sugar on the thing for a while, she's just compulsively chewing on the stick to sooth some kind of mental fixation.

“So you're just... Lurking to watch?” He asks.

“Nothin' else to do in this fuckin' place. Not as good as Owellton though.” Their stares meet for a moment before Gabe starts to walk away. Owellton wasn't what he would have called a show, but he supposed to anyone who had seen it, it would have been. As he starts to leave, he hears her call back at him over his shoulder. “It's cool, you know.”

This makes him stop and his eyes turn down.

“There's nothing _cool_ about what I do to people.” He remarks sharply.

“Maybe not before.” She shrugs, looking down at her shoes. The stick is removed from her mouth and shoved into a pocket. Instead, a cigarette takes its place and she lights up, realizing he's still standing there, half turned to look at her. “Got potential... That's all I meant.” She clarified, taking a deep inhale from the smoke.

“Potential?” He grunts in response.

“... Oh come on. You're here ain't'cha? I don't know anybody who can do what you do. You could put that to some good use.”

His eyes narrow at her, and he smirks faintly.

“ _Good use for whom?”_ Then he turns and stalks out, leaving her something to think about.

 

It's the night before Jesse is due to come back to base, and Gabriel wants to tear out his hair. He needs to know the answer, and he wants to leave. Did Jesse have a hand in this? Gabe is sitting in his room, eyes fastened on the screen across from his couch. Then, there's a knock at his door. A knock, not a buzz, not a comm-click. It makes him twitch, almost startled, and he glances back towards the door.

The knock comes again. _Who the hell was here? Why were they disturbing him?_ It was already almost after hours... But yet...

Gabriel finally moves to stand, turning on a light as he approaches the door, not wanthing anyone to realize he's been more or less sitting in the dark, besides the screen, for the better part of four hours. That seemed a little emotional, even for Gabriel. Maybe it's the cowboy, home early?

His hand drops onto the pad beside the door, unlocking it and opening it without a word. It isn't who he expects, and for a long moment the two stare at each other, wordless.

White hair, scar, jacket, and where his pulse rifle ought to be in his hands, two cups of coffee.

Gabe nearly shuts the door, but Jack stops him, putting his foot in the way just slightly.

“Hey, Gabe.”

“ _What do you want, Morrison?”_

“Nothing. I don't want anything. We don't have to talk.”

_“Then why are you here?”_

“Just to see you. Is that okay?” His voice carries a thread of uncertainty, which Gabriel remembers, if fondly, but it's tainted to him now. _To see him?_ Jack didn't come here to visit, surely.

“ _Now_ you want to see me?” Gabe asks.

“Look... I know... _I know._.. Can I come inside? I don't want to do this out here.”

“You _knocked..._ You don't want anyone to know you're here, do you?” Gaberiel connects the dots effortlessly in seconds, brows knitting together as he meets the Soldier's hard stare.

“Maybe... Maybe not.” Jack replies. “You want this coffee, or are ya gonna make me drink them both?” He asks. Gabe looks down to the two mugs, squints at the soldier before taking one and ghosting away, carrying it as he retreats into the room, leaving the door ajar.

“ _If only because I'm told too much caffeine is bad for old people._ ”

“A lot of good things are bad for people, Gabe.” Jack murmurs as he's let inside, turning to shut the door. Looking back, Jack's eyes land upon Gabriel again, who is back to the sofa, looking like he entirely expects Jack to try to get him to talk. Why else would he be here, Gabriel wonders? Jack flounders for a moment before he comes to sit too, though not too close. “What's this?” he asks, nodding at the screen.

“It's Gh-”

“Oh wait...” Jack's eyes narrow at the screen. “Christ it isn't... It _is..._ Gabe... This is _Ghost Hunters International.”_ The old solider shoots him a look, and Gabe is mildly embarrassed and looks down into his coffee. “You _still_ watch these? You know these things are ancient, Gabe.”

“They're _interesting_.” The shade replies. Jack smirks, then laughs.

“Well I guess they gotta be. You've seen all the seasons about eleven times a piece.”

“Maybe once.”

“Yeah.” Jack muses, sipping his drink, realizing that Gabe probably doesn't remember them all anymore. Not after what he's been through. His smile fades somewhat.

 

His eyes lift and for a while, they're quiet. Jack seems genuinely entertained by the show, if old. After a time, at the end of one episode, Gabriel looks at him.

“Aren't you going to do what you came here to do, Jack?”

“Huh?”

“You came here to try and ask me about Widow. About what I'm doing.” Gabe reminds, as though they don't both know it. Jack smiles and offers a small chuckle.

“I didn't actually.”

“No?”

“No.” Jack replies, sipping again, then adding on. “I came here to apologize.”

“What for?- For lying to me? For deliberately keeping me unaware of her?”

“... No. Not exactly. Look Gabe. I'm not here to talk about Widow... I haven't been fair to you.”

“Oh. It's _that_ talk. The one you couldn't have before. You sure you're ready now?”

“No.” Jack admits. “I think it would be a long time before I'm ready for it... But I'm not a moron, and I know what to expect from you. So, I'm as ready as I'm going to be, before you disappear again.” Jack replies firmly. Gabriel gives him a long, hard stare.

“You knew I was leaving?”

“I didn't need Ana to tell me to know exactly what you'd do. I know you, Gabe. I know you feel betrayed... And... Maybe you have a right to feel that way. But I'm here because I'm sorry. Look. I know you don't want to talk, and I'm not saying you have to... But I need to. And I need you to at least listen... Or at least just sit there quietly so I can get it off my chest.” The scarred man finally looked back to Gabriel. His blue eyes are sharp, sad, but firm. He's been through too much to look like the gentle blonde he seemed when their romance first begun years ago. He seems to be waiting to see if Gabe will actually let him speak. When no rebuke comes to interrupt him or stop him, he finally composes himself, sips his drink then sets it down on the end table nearby him. When he looks back, his voice is softer, but melancholy. “I wanted to tell you about what happened to me. Why I ended up this way... Why I treated you the way I have...” He pauses once more, trying to do something, anything with his hands, he fidgets as he struggles, before finally leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees, lifting his fingers to rub idly at his face. “After everything happened... I ran. I lived, but I had to get away. I couldn't stand what had happened. You were dead and I felt like the reason why.” To hear that Jack had any guilt at all shocked Gabriel somewhat, and his eyes widened as he looked at him. Finally, Jack seemed to let go of what was holding him back. His hands dropped, dangling between his knees as his blue eyes locked on the floor.

“SEP was our safe haven, Gabriel. It was where we met. Where we became friends, then brothers, then... More. When it ended, and Overwatch started, you and me, we came and made it what we could. We made it strong. We saved people. Thousands of lives. When we put down the omnics, you were... Happy... Happiest I'd ever seen you, I guess. But then things started to change. The UN chose me over you to lead the organization. I don't know why, and I didn't ask for it... In fact, I wanted to give it to you, but when I tried... You refused it. You told me that you never wanted that kind of attention. You said that you didn't want the world watching you the way that they would be watching me. Strike Commander... You told me I was ready for it... So I let them put that badge on me, and everything went downhill from there. Slowly, over time, you changed. You and me... We weren't the same. We stopped talking. I was stressed, and you were too. More and more, it began to feel like you were actually jealous of what happened. It didn't make any sense. You struggled, Gabe... With your anger. With these hideous nightmares you used to have. You said you were having dreams of a ghost. Some black and red monstrosity. A Reaper. That was what you used to call it. Then, on the last day... The last day, when the explosion happened, I looked in your eyes and I realized you were gone. There was nothing left of you in there. You looked back at me, but I was seeing a man I'd never met before. You- my friend, brother, lover... You were gone. Not dead, but consumed. We fought. I... I don't really remember much what happened. I tried to talk sense into you, and I thought for a moment it might work, but it didn't. You attacked me- put me down with one punch. I wasn't even awake for the explosion. When I woke up, my face felt like it was in half, and you were gone. They wouldn't tell me what happened to you. They refused, and that was how I knew you were dead.

I blamed myself. I could have done something, I'd say. I should have talked to you... Promoted you, reached out more... Anything. I felt like... All of this was because of me. Because I failed you- because I failed Overwatch... And a lot of other people seemed to think that too. So I left, Gabe. I left and tried to regroup. I did as much research as I could. More and more, I began to feel and really believe that you had lost your mind... That Reaper had become you, and that you were gone.

Of course, when Reaper actually emerged as a Talon Operative, I was concerned. I couldn't be sure, and I didn't want to believe it, but then I saw it with my own eyes. The more footage I saw of you fighting, the more convinced I was. In my mind, you had become a monster that I had created... And that I should be the one to put you down. For me, it was my mess that I needed to clean up... I thought, if you had seen what you'd become, you would want to be dead. You'd want me to do it... Then Overwatch wanted to redeem you, but I had spent so many years hating what you had become that I couldn't open up. It wasn't until I began to actually see you that it began to change.”

Gabriel is quiet beyond words at this point, his mouth sits in a still, straight line, but his eyes are fastened on Jack. He waits on every word, needing to know more.

“But up until that point... I treated you like shit. I didn't trust you. I was so... afraid, Gabe. I was afraid of confronting what would have been the complicated truth. It was so much easier to think that you were gone and needed put down... I was so reluctant... And now you're here... I'm sorry, Gabriel. I mean it. I was blind. I want to start over. I want to try again.”

These words make Gabriel's stomach tie itself into knots, and a dozen questions compete against each other, the hurdle that lies on the way to his lips.

“Try _what_ , Jack?” Gabriel asks. “What _specifically?”_ And Jack, without asking, knows what he means and looks down.

“Just... Square one. For now. I want to know we can at least work together again. You and I have both changed. We're both different now... And depending what you eventually remember... I don't know how much we can fix. But you're here now... Aren't you? Are we in this together?”

Gabriel looks away, already committed to leaving Overwatch, but Jack is all but begging him to stay... He finishes off the last of his coffee, then shrugs.

“I suppose that depends.”

“On what?”

“On what Jesse says, and how much I remember. You knew I was going to leave, Jack. You all lied to me. How can you trust me- and how can I trust any of you, in light of that?”

“... I don't know. But I know it's safer, Gabe... Talon is not your friend. They wont help you.”

“I do not want or need Talon now, Jack.”

“What do you mean?”

“Talon was helping me to destroy you... That's not something I'm doing anymore, and for what I intend now, Talon can't offer me anything.”

“Then where will you go?”

“I haven't decided yet... And I wouldn't tell you even if I had.” Gabe says, handing his empty mug over to Jack, who looks down and takes it, seeming sad almost.

“Can you tell me something?”

“What?” Gabe grunts.

“... What was it like... When you were with Talon? As Reaper. Do you remember it or was it... How was it like? When did you start to feel like yourself, or when did you start to question it?”

“... I can't tell you that... At least not yet. But, I can tell you, I never felt like myself... I still don't, most of the time.” Gabriel replies, sounding defeated. “Thanks for the drink.” Jack seems to digest the mans words, nodding slowly, his hand settles on the sofa to push himself up, making as though he means to leave. Maybe it was a good time to let it lie.

But then, as he stands, the wraith's voice breaks through the silence between them.

“ _... You don't have to go._ ” Gabriel says, stopping the soldier in his tracks. Jack had said those words not long prior, in the training room... Maybe he _should_ go. Wouldn't it be best to have had his say and leave Gabriel to his devices? Is it smart to stay here? But... He knows Gabriel. If he turns down this offer, it won't come again. It must have taken some strength for Reaper to allow him to linger, and something of what Jack had said must have gotten through to him to make him say it...Jack decides to stay. Things would never improve between them if he didn't take the time to at least try. He was hesitant and perhaps a little nervous, but ultimately he set down the mugs on an end table and returned to the couch, his weight sinking into the cushions, offering Gabe a small, wordless nod. Thought they were quiet for the remainder of the show, both seemed to have the same thoughts in their mind: that, somehow this felt familiar... And it felt _right_. At the end of it, there was a short, simple goodnight, before the soldier retired to his own quarters, leaving them both to mull over the feelings stirring within them, both pleasant, hopeful, and mildly unsure.

 

The following morning, Jesse finally returned. Apparently, someone had gotten to Jesse before Gabriel could, and the cowboy turned up at his door some hours after his return. Gabriel, still sipping a hot coffee from that morning, sat at his table, mulling over a tablet, his only form of entertainment besides the holo-screen on the wall. Now, Jesse stood across from him, looking more or less fresh from a shower, making it clear that here hadn't been his first stop. Perhaps he needed to brace himself for this encounter, Gabriel thought as he looked up at the man, silently gauging him.

“Y'wanted to see me, didn't you?” He asks.

“I did.” Gabe replies, dipping his head somewhat. “You can sit if you want.”

“Don't reckon it would help matters. I know why you wanted me here... You wanna know how much I know about what happened.”

“Just answer me one thing, Jesse.” Gabriel says, leaning forward in his seat. “Did you know she was alive?” His chestnut, red-flecked eyes are piercing, and do not leave the gunslinger's features as he asks. Jesse feels like he's being interrogated again, and looks away, brows furrowing.

“Look, I don't-”

“ _Answer the question, Jesse._ ” Reaper rasps.

Jesse huffs. It's too early for this, and he doesn't like Gabe's tone.

“Yes. Alright? I fuckin' knew. But listen here, now. It ain't like we kept it from ya because we were tryin'a use you or somethin'. That ain't what this has ever been about and I'd 'ppreciate it if you got that out of your head right now.” Jesse rumbles, trying to put his foot down, so to speak, but he's getting heated trying to defend himself.

“You kept it from me, all the same.” The ghost begins to rouse, picking up on Jesse's heated words and the venom in them.

“Yeah, and? You wonder why that is, Reyes? You feel betrayed or somethin'? How the fuck do you think I'd feel, if it turns out you're gonna just abandon the 'Watch again because of some... Long lost romance between you an' a sniper-”

“ _Shut your mouth.”_ Reaper growls. Gabriel is standing now and smoke plumes off of him, seeping through his clothing, off of his very skin and eyes that peer into Jesse like daggers. “It was _never_ like that. Everyone here has this obscene idea that that's what it was-”

“You _said_ _so yourself,_ Gabe, that she was the only thing in Talon for ya.”

“She was the _only_ thing I had, Jesse!” Gabriel snarls, Reaper coming through in his voice as he leans forward. “No family, no friends, no trust, nothing but a mission, and her. She was the only thing there that I could relate to.”

“You saved 'er life, and Jack says you slept with her.”

“ _I slept with her to bother Jack, you fool._ ” Gabe snaps, his eyes livid. “You don't know the situation, NO one does. And no one _needs_ to. That was my fucking business. I've saved all your lives multiple times before, but no one ever accused me of loving any of you!”

“Well no! Not since you blew up the place, right?!” Jesse yells back, but he seems immediately regretful. Gabe's eyes have widened and he seems to straighten up, hands forming fists at his sides.

“Ah, hell. Look, Gabe, I'm sorry. I didn't fuckin'.. _Hell. I didn't mean that._ ” The cowboy sighs, looking down. “Look. Please. Just hear me out, alright?”

“ _Talk._ ” Gabriel growls, still incensed.

“We wanted you back here because we thought we could save you. We thought maybe we could bring you back. Overwatch hasn't been the same without you and Jack. Yeah, I suppose it made a lot of sense, and had a lot of benefits. Obviously you've got some abilities now that'd come in mighty handy, and sure, removing you from Talon handicaps them some, but that wasn't the bottom line. We wanted you here, Gabe. We needed you. Missed you... Widow was a threat to all that, because, like ya said, we had no idea how invested you were with her. We still ain't got any idea. It's scary to think what might happen if you decided to go back to her, and tell her everything that you done and seen here. It's a real bad thought. Moreover, if you _were_ real invested in her, by Sombra's accounts... Well, Widow ain't well anymore. She ain't herself, and she sure as hell ain't the person you were friends with. She's broken real bad now, Gabe... And I don't reckon that you goin' back to her would do any good to anyone. It might just upset you more... Angie wanted to tell you all this, not me, but hell, I'm here now, I guess... So there it is. Yeah. I knew. What's that mean to you?”

For a long moment, Gabe glares at the man. He still feels betrayed, but in some respect, he understands. Under different circumstances, Jesse might have told him, he realizes... Except that to have done so would have just caused him more pain... And Jesse had only just gotten Gabe back, as it were...

“Well? What's it going to be?” Jesse presses.

“I _should_ leave.” Gabriel growls. “I know I ought to, because none of you took the time of day to simply ask me, to simply trust me as a human being and have faith in my intentions here.”

“Would _you_ have, Gabe? After everything that happened? Wouldn't you have some reluctance as well?” The cowboy asks.

Gabriel's eyes turn down. “That is why I haven't left. I made you a deal, Jesse, that if I left I would take you with me.”

“So you stayed, to see how involved I was with it, to see if I was worth taking along?”

“Something like that.”

“Well I ain't fuckin' goin' to Talon, Reyes.”

“Neither am I.” The shade rumbles.

“Then what's it going to be?”

Again, the man is quiet and he remains with his eyes down turned. He hates that it had to happen this way. Even now, he blames himself for Widow's downfall. All of it, not merely the collapse of the balcony, but to the alleged way she's become as well.

However... A moment of clarity seems to overcome him, a long lost conscience from years ago, before Reaper had such a strong hold on him. For a moment, he can put aside the hate and the pain, and he's able to remember what it felt like, sitting on the couch last night with Jack, watching old shows, and a few nights before, with Sombra and Jesse lounging beside him, and the dream, that family of his in his old apartment... It had all felt so much better than anything he'd felt even remotely for years. He had begun to feel human again, even if the presence of nanites suggested otherwise. Could he truly blame them? Could he blame Jack and Jesse and all of Overwatch for wanting to shelter him from what could be a very bad situation with Widow? Could he blame them for not entirely, unquestioningly trusting him after what he had done, exploding the base and destroying Overwatch? It was indisputable now that he'd done it, but the circumstances as to why were still a mystery to him... But... By this point, Gabriel knew himself. He'd have never done something like that oh his own volition. Sure, he had his issues with his rage and his need for revenge, but those had always been fuel to his fire. As per the jealousy that people suggested he must have felt to do what he did... That simply didn't add up. He loved Jack. They had been together, so then, wouldn't he have felt good, felt proud of Jack for making it to Strike Commander? Especially if, as Jack had said, he _wanted_ him to? Could jealousy have actually caused him to do something so irrational and drastic, and betray everyone he was family to?

Somehow, Gabriel doubted it.

Still... The fact that Widow's state had been kept from him bothered him, even if he now understood why it had been done.

“I want to see it. I want to see proof of what she's become, and how.”

Jesse regarded him for a long moment before tilting his head.

“So is that it then? You've decided not to make up your mind until you see it?”

“No, Jesse. My mind is made up. I'll stay, but I want to _see_ it. Sombra knows more, has seen more. If it's true that nothing can be done for her, then my mission remains the same. I still have answers to pull out of Talon.” _Done for her?_ Did... Could it be that Gabriel intended to help her in some way? Was he still trying to save her life, even now?

The cowboy offered a small, faint smile.

“I'll let Angie know...”

 

After that, the gunslinger takes his leave, and Gabriel prepares himself to visit the training room, which is unusual considering that it's nearing the middle of the day, and it's busy. Most of the time, he would wait until it's unoccupied or quiet, but for now, company seems to suit him even if he has no intention of speaking to anyone, and blowing off steam seems like the best way to get over the guilt still in his gut.

 

As expected, when he arrives, the range is full. Jack is here, down the hall with a pistol, at the traditional firing range. Carter, the new recruit, is at the light-target range from prior, and somewhere off to the side, a class of Overwatch associates partake in a yoga class. A few others, associates of different kinds, jog or play a few sports or use the work out machines. Faintly, Gabriel can hear the clang of metal coming from the dojo. Intrigued, he makes his way there, bypassing everyone else and slipping into the doorway. Genji is there, working with someone who looks significantly younger than him, another associate of some kind who Gabriel doesn't recognize. He's clearly giving some tips and pointers here and there.

“Looking for me?” A voice approaches from behind him, and Gabriel turns his head to spy Katie as she arrives. She smiles at him.

“Mmhn.” he grunts. “I wasn't looking for anyone, but I suppose I could do with some company.” he confesses. Being around Katie is always comforting to him, and somehow, she seems abstract from all of the drama that surrounds him. It's a nice relief.

She chuckles, smile brightening. “I'm glad you decided to stay.”

“Word travels that fast, does it?”

“Oh, no.” She muses as she steps into the dojo, and he follows her. Genji notices them and offers a small nod, but otherwise, does not interrupt his session. “It's just that I knew if you were still here this morning after the kid got home, you probably weren't going anywhere. I was going to be sad to see you leave.”

“Wait... You knew that there was a potential- you knew about...” Was Katie higher up in Overwatch than he realized?

“Ah... Calm down, Chief. I see those wheels turning. It's nothing like that. I work with one of the scientists; Mei-Ling Zhou. You may have seen her. Short girl, shy, seems to like ice a lot? She overheard some things from Angela... I guess they had a lunch date or something. She told me about it, since I knew you.”

Gabriel shakes his head, sighing. “Can't say I've met her. Still, I'm not surprised. Should have figured that gossip would spread through here like a girl's locker room.”

“ _What would you know about girl's locker rooms, Gabe?_ ” She chides as she stops at the back of the room, moving to open a weapon cabinet, and within it, a set of katanas. She pulls out two, then holds one out to Gabriel. Glancing down at it, his brow raises before he takes it.

“I had a sister, you know. I'm not entirely oblivious.”

“ _Had?_ ” Katie asks.

“Er...” Gabe watches her as she comes to the middle of a sparring square, and reluctantly follows to stand across from her. “Yeah... Had. I haven't spoken to her in years. I don't even know if she's still-”

“Don't worry Gabe. She is. She's around. Has kids. You're an uncle. Congratulations. I'd say you should go and see her but... Well...”

“Yeah.. Somehow I doubt that would go over well... How did you find her?”

“It was easy once I had access to Overwatch's database. I already knew your name, so I was able to find her more or less on my own years ago. It wasn't until I got here that I confirmed it. Anyway. Take your hoodie off, you're not going to want it for this.”

“Is this- are you actually going to-”

“Hey, I said one day I'd show you. You still owe me guitar lessons.” She muses at him. He smiles, despite his mood. She's steadily improving it, and his smile is a welcome break from his usual scowl. The hoodie comes off, leaving him in a more fitted tank top and pants.

“I haven't plucked strings in years, Katie. I don't even know if I still remember how.”

“Like riding a bike I imagine. Now just... Do what I do, okay?” She begins, showing him the basic hold and stance, and then a few others. While she discusses the method and the reasoning behind the movements, Genji tunes in. His would-be student departs, and it isn't long before the cyborg is leaning against the wall nearby to them. Today, he's wearing simple loose pants, and nothing on top.

“Who is your friend, Reyes?” Genji asks after five minutes or so, and the two glance his way. Genji seems... Impressed.

“Katie Hall.” She introduces herself.

“We used to be partners back in SEP... Before things happened.” Gabriel explains.

“SEP? Another _Soldier?_ And here I did not think that any but Jack and Gabriel survived the company...”

“Well, technically I didn't finish the program. I guess you could say I washed out early.” She mused back at him.

“Perhaps a good thing, as you're here now, and did not suffer the same unfortunate fate as the others. Still, somehow I doubt the SEP taught you this.” Genji replies, nodding at the swords. She chuckles at him.

“No, obviously not. Learned it at a young age. Anyway, I told Gabe here I'd show him a thing or two.” She admits, and Genji smiles, a feat Gabe is impressed by, given the metal lower jaw he has.

“Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I? Perhaps later we can spar together.”

“That would be fun, but I've heard of your skills, Shimada. Somehow I doubt I'd be much of a challenge.” Katie chuckles, but the cyborg shrugs.

“A warrior is wasted without humility and willingness to learn more. I am sure you have something you could teach me.” He says, then bowing. She seems to formally bow back at him, before he leaves.

“Learned a lot of things with those monks, didn't he?” She asks Gabe, who shrugs.

“Can't say I know. Anyway... We doing this?”

They spent the next hour on simple basics, and it didn't take Gabe long to realize he'd be terrible with swords, probably always, but still, it was a fun diversion, and ultimately, the two left the area laughing. Only vaguely did he pause to notice that the new recruit, Carter, was still there, still plugging away at moving targets, wielding two pistols. This intrigued him, but for the moment, he didn't stop to talk, and instead walked on.

 

Later, Gabriel arrives at Angela's office after neglecting her for the last few days. When he arrives, she isn't there, but he decides to wait, leaning against the wall. Within fifteen minutes, she turns up, distracting him from the music he's plugged into either ear, and he looks up from his hand-held tablet to speak to her.

“Ah, Gabriel. Here at last. I was hoping to see you a few days ago, about your medicine... Ah, anyway...” She unlocks the office and lets them in and he comes to sit in one of the black seats by the wall. “Tell me, are the pills helping? Any side effects?”

“They're working, Doctor.” He confirms. “Though Jack seems concerned about my _sleeping in too late._ ” he scoffs. She smirks.

“Ah, well, that's nothing to do with me, at least. You'll have to sort that out between you two...” She's picked up her medical instruments and without any warning, has gone about a typical check up, peering into his eyes, ears and the like without question. “May I inquire as to how that's... Going?”

“... You mean... Me and Jack?” he asks, and she makes a small, affirmative hum. His eyes roll somewhat, head craning to the side, away from her tools. “ _It's going, I guess._ ”

“Ah. Well that's good! An improvement, I'd say.”

“Angela.”

“Hmm?”

“Jesse said you wanted to talk about Widow.” He remarks, and her happy, casual tone slowly dies down into something a little more serious.

“Ah... Yes. Well... Mostly I wanted to apologize, and to explain.”

“Why should you apologize? It wasn't your decision, was it?”

“It was mutual, Gabriel. As soon as Sombra found out, we all knew. Me, Reinhardt, Ana, Jack, Winston... We decided it was best to keep it under wraps, as it were. It wasn't one person's decision. We didn't know how safe it was to tell you, especially not if she is as unstable as Sombra is saying that she is.”

“I want to see proof of her instability. She sang something while I was there. That was how I found her... I followed it and she was singing it.”

“Ah, yes. The song. I remember. You used to sing it sometimes in Blackwatch, too.”

“... Did I? You knew it?”

“It seemed to soothe you while you were injured, and sometimes you would sing it around your troops when they were hurt, or during interrogations. Some people were quite unnerved by it... Others were comforted by it.”

“And which were you?” He asks, and her glance meets his and she smiled.

“I suppose if you were singing, it meant you were still healthy enough to do so... A good sign, I suppose, though I confess that your darker sense of humor and tastes in music and style were never ones I shared personally.”

“ _Oh, sorry. Too edgy for you, Doctor?_ ” Gabriel teased, smirking.

“Besides being forty or so years too old for _even you,_ Gabriel, I was never a fan of the classics. At least not those classics, anyway. Black clothing, black bed sheets, moody lighting... No thanks.” She laughs, shrugging. “But then, you always did have a slight flair for the dramatics. It's artistic in a way, and I suppose I can appreciate it. Anyway... I will see if Sombra can recover some of Widow's footage for you, so you can see for yourself... We were actually afraid that she might try to kill you if she saw you again. She still might, Gabriel. It's important that that _doesn't_ happen.”

“I doubt she even could, Angela. I'm not sure much can kill me.”

“Be that as it may, do not underestimate the sniper. A head shot could still seriously damage you, and I don't know if we could recover you from that. I'd like to not find out if it's possible or not. After what... ah... Jack and I _heard_... We assumed that you and she were involved, and the footage of you saving her, as well as what I saw the day that you came back to us... It seemed to me to be obvious... But I suppose, if you were desperate enough for someone, anyone, to be there for you, it makes some sense.”

“I didn't need her there for me...” Gabe replies, looking distantly for a moment, recalling. “She confided in me, Angela. Something she didn't do for anyone else at any point. She trusted me, cared about me. She expected me to be there for her. She respected my wishes, and she understood my need to find out the answers about myself, even if she didn't share them for herself... When Jack and Reinhardt and the others rescued you from Talon headquarters, there came a point where Jack hit her, and could have killed her... Talon commanded me to leave her. They wanted me to abandon her to recover you, but I couldn't bring myself to do that... But she was their most loyal asset... I was barely more than pet project by comparison, but they were willing to sacrifice her. I didn't like that. It bothered me, because I felt like I was the only one she actually had. Maybe the only one who cared about her, if only a little. She killed her husband... I know she seems emotionless and cold... But she isn't, Angela. She regrets it. I've heard it in her voice, seen it in her eyes. She's human, just like you... And me.” For now, he lets the question of his humanity go ignored. “And if she's actually broken, actually... Reverted... I need to see it. And if so... Talon will pay for it. For what they've done to me, and to her.”

When he finishes talking, Angela is smiling. She rests her hand on his shoulder.

“You were a good friend to her, Gabriel... Regardless what sides we were on at the time. I wish I could say that everything will work out fine... But right now I just don't know... For now, I'm going to prescribe you another batch, and see how your memories suit you then. Alright?”

“Alright.” He says, moving to stand.

“Good evening, Gabriel.” She says finally, and he exits after a small dip of his head.

 

The following morning, Gabriel finds himself heading towards the training chamber, which is quickly becoming a favorite pass time for him. This time, it's a little quieter, but there's still the tell-tale click and bang of discharging weapons.

Pistols.

This time, Gabe's the one watching from a short distance away, but Carter is hardly dancing around the area as he had been. She can't do what he can, so she, like any sane person, stays behind the counter and its protective barrier. Still, she's a good shot, and he finds himself mildly impressed.

When she finally notices him there, she flinches.

“Oi. Didn't imagine I'd be wasting your time. You could have said something...”

“Wasting time is the only reason I came here.” He confesses, arms crossed, hood still up over his head. A bit more red had filtered into his eyes over the last week or so that he hasn't fed, and his skin is a little paler, but Carter hasn't been around long enough to notice the difference.

“Oh. Right. Got any tips?” She asks. His brow raises and he cants his head.

“Doesn't look to me like you need any. Seem you've got plenty of skill already. Guess that's why they recruited you, isn't it?”

“McCree recruited me. Said something about getting out of the shit hole you 'ruined.' Though, to be honest, I liked it better with bullet holes and brains splattered all over the place.”

Gabriel cringes. “ _Sorry._ ” he groans. She shrugs.

“Ain't no matter. It wasn't nothing special to me. Just a job.”

“A Job? In Owellton?”

“Girl's gotta make pay somehow, and I figured if I was going to get roughed up, it was going to be on my terms, know what I'm sayin'?” She puts her pistols down for a moment. There's not a whole lot special about them, but they've clearly seen some use. Turning away from the counter, her arms cross.

“Name's Jaelen. Carter, I guess... That's my last name. You can call me Jay. You don't need to introduce yourself, Reaper. Everyone here knows who you are.”

“Do they?” he asks, brow lofting.

“Anyone who matters. Gabriel Reyes- Blackwatch Commander. A dead man, allegedly. I remember you. I thought I recognized you standing in the hall the other day. How'd you go from hero to horror, ey?”

Gabe smirks. It's a small, dark sort of thing, but she doesn't seem put off.

“The question of the year, it seems. No one seems to know. Guess I'm still figuring that out too.”

“Right. Well. You don't scare me. At least not right now. None of these other people seem to want to deal with you, no different than they seem to not want to deal with me. Way I see it, we've got something in common.”

There are a few flashbacks that run through Gabe's mind, of his initial recruitment of McCree. Jesse couldn't have told her all that, could he? _Did he?_

“No one's going to hassle either of us, but no one's going to show me anything new either. What do you say, ey? Show me what's what? Teach me some things?” She asks. Gabe seems to sigh.

“I use shotguns.” He says, even though he's pretty sure she already knows that, but she shrugs.

“Suit yourself. I just figured a badass like you would be more than a _one-trick pony_.” She turns back around, seeming mildly disappointed, and picks up one of her pistols. She's in the process of reloading it when suddenly Gabe materializes beside her, right hand landing on top of the other gun. He hoists it and pulls the trigger six times, shadows jumping off of his form, scattering around him as he does so. A second later, six bots collapse, a bullet in the core of each one of them, effectively disabling them in a matter of seconds. As they're light targets, they dissolve, their pieces evaporating like cerulean fireflies into the air of the chamber and reforming the bots entirely. Then, without a word, he gently sets the gun back down on the counter, his eyes focused on hers almost darkly. He didn't care for the perceived challenge, but he's made his point. He turns away, leaving a ghostly trail behind him as he starts to leave.

She stares after him, her face an expression of awe before she finally smiles and calls after him.

“Knew you had it in you, ey!”

He slows, head turning over his shoulder some to talk to her, though their eyes don't meet.

“Tomorrow, 0800 hours. Don't be late, or I won't bother to schedule more.” He growls. If everyone else has got their little protege, he may as well take up someone to pass the time with, right? At least until they have missions for him. Jay was right. If no one else was going to engage them, they may as well work together.

 

Perhaps this could be the thing that keeps him invested in Overwatch, if not his slowly-recovering relationship with Jack, and his trying friendship with Jesse.

 

Maybe this could be home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys!
> 
> I hope you like the new character I have pulled into the fanfiction! Jaelen Carter is my own concept, so I hope you like her!
> 
> Now, this week for me is going to be hell in a handbag. I'm moving out friday, and I seriously doubt that I will have internet by next sunday, so I will be releasing the next chapter sometime during the week. look for it!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! You guys and your encouraging words inspire me so much to keep writing this for you, and I couldn't ask for a better fan base.
> 
> <3


	24. Love

~

 

Seventy-Six. The call-sign of the man Gabriel was falling helplessly for. A soldier, like the others, but in the last few weeks, Gabriel had learned something about him that he found... Almost sweet. It was one thing to train with someone, to work with them and talk with them, but fighting, actually going into battle with someone beside you and seeing them at both their best and their worst, the boundaries and limitations of what they could do physically and mentally, that was something else altogether. They had bonded through this, and become something more than the casual, pleasurable fling they had started out as. Gabriel saw in Jack all of the things he didn't see in himself... Strength and courage, faith enough in humanity to trust them, to _want_ to help them. Where Gabriel had honed himself into a death machine, Jack had become a Hero somehow. Gabriel would not have saved Eddie in those moments, and he sure as hell wouldn't have gone toe to toe with a Tritelum unit to save them... But Jack had. Jack had thrown himself into it like a madman, a warrior aflame with the need for glory... Except that he knew that no glory would come with this. In all likelihood, they'd all die, and no one would know of their efforts beyond the headline that would show on the news, then be forgotten three weeks later.

But Gabriel had seen it.

Now, as Gabe stared down at his desk at a pile of paperwork he wasn't ready for, he couldn't think of anyone else besides the blond headed Soldier.

Bennison hadn't returned from his mission as they had. In fact, none of his team had.

Now, they'd all be going home in bags, or what was left of them would be.

The paperwork in question? An official obituary that was being set to be released, a thing that Gabriel had to memorize on the off chance someone asked him about Bennison's actual life and demeanor. The reality of his station and what he was doing here, what they were all doing here, was top secret, so what went to the public had to be fabricated. It was a detail that Gabe had done before, for the other Captains, but he did not suspect that he'd have to be doing so for Bennison anytime soon. As much as he and the other didn't get along, it made everything so much more _real_ for him. In a week, this could be his paperwork, on someone else's desk. They'd probably say he was a friendly, music-loving man who just wanted to do right by people and save the world, as opposed to the reality that was, Gabriel was a ruthless sort of man here for revenge, eager to put to death the monsters that eviscerated his family, and very little else.

Walcott had asked Gabriel to suggest a new Captain. Someone who could perform and do well where the other captains had failed...

Someone from his team.

 

Jack.

 

He was perfect for the job. He had strategy now that near equaled Gabriel's own, and he was easily the most formidable on his team. Moreover, he cared about people, and not just his team, but everyone. Civilians. Americans. Humans as a whole. As a race. He cared.

That was the exact sort of person needed for positions like this, but...

Gabriel had become biased and concerned. If Bennison was here now, dead, what was to say Jack wouldn't follow? If Gabe put his name in, Jack might die...

 

_But they might all die anyway._

 

Moreover, if he puts Jack up, Walcott might decide to send him somewhere else, somewhere... Away. Could Gabriel stand to be away from him now? Jack had never really lead before, though he had begun to pick up the reins now and again when it was needed.

He was ready. Beyond ready to lead.

 

… But Gabriel wasn't ready to let go.

 

Tears came to the Captain's eyes as he mulled over this, sitting alone in his Captain's quarters at his desk, staring down at this paperwork that had been shoved in front of him.

Val could be a Captain, he thought. He could put her name in, and she'd probably be chosen... But Val did not have nearly as much fortitude or foresight as he or Jack did. The truth of the matter was that Gabriel knew beyond any question of a doubt who he must choose, but he hated the decision.

Maybe Walcott knew it too... Maybe that's why this task had been shoved into his hands. It was still no secret that they had this little relationship, and most likely, the Colonel wanted it to end. That was the only reason Gabe could think to justify this. Why tear apart a team that was functioning perfectly before?

Well that was a simple answer: The SEP couldn't be victorious with only one successful team. They needed more. The remnants of other teams whose Captains had died or been crippled needed to be paired together and put back to work, so whoever got chosen would end up with leftovers... But those leftovers would be survivors, hardened veterans to what they were now fighting.

Reluctantly, Gabriel picked up the pen to his right. His fingers trembled and he swallowed hard, forcing down his emotions. The pen pressed to the paper and he forced himself to write the name for the suggested replacement.

 

_**Jack Morrison.** _

 

“You're sure about this?” Walcott asks sometime later as Gabriel is turning in the paperwork. There eyes meet, and Gabriel's eyes harden, brows knitting.

“The omnics must be overcome, Colonel, or we'll all be dead. Morrison is the best Soldier I have, and he's suited for the job.” Straight and to the point, Gabriel seems to have put aside his own greed and fear. Walcott nods, respect entering his features.

“As you do, Captain Reyes... I'll put it in his file. Take him under your wing. Show him a thing or two about leading for the next mission or two. If he survives, I'll put together a team for him. You'll be getting a replacement for him as well, if he makes it... You understand the repercussions of doing this, don't you Captain? What this could mean for him- for both of you?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath.

“Implicitly, Sir.” he rumbles. It hasn't been easy, as he knows he may well have just signed Jack's death warrant... But if they hope to defeat the omnics, it may well be the best chance they have.

Walcott meets his stare for a long moment, then dips his head. “Good on you. I'm proud of you, Son. Dismissed, Soldier.”

“Sir, Yes Sir.” Reyes parrots before he turns and heads out. Should he even tell Jack about it? Should he warn him, or hint anything at all? No. Best not to put him under pressure, or have him get his hopes let down if he isn't chosen for the job.

 

The next mission runs more or less smoothly, and Gabriel keeps Jack with him almost the entire time, until it comes time to push him a little more. “You'll Take Eddie, Merrick and Ryan and run the south wall. Val and I will lay down suppressing fire on the bastions from up here. Once you see the grenades go off, you book it. The civilians are trapped on the third floor. Evac arrives in six minutes. Your mission is to get them out while we keep them distracted.”

It sounded simple, but Gabriel knew it would be anything but.

“Sir- You're splitting up me and Ryan?” Val asks, concern coming into her eyes and voice.

“Morrison will need all the help to get those civilians out, and you're the best aim we have. I need you up here with me.” He insists. She nods firmly, but hardly looks happy about it. Merrick just seems happy to be out and about again, a chance to show off his new, metal appendage. Jack seems just as nervous about leaving Gabe behind as Val is about leaving Ryan, as their eyes lock, the blond's eyes are hard. Gabe dips his head firmly. “You have this, Soldier?”

“Sir, Yes Sir.” Jack responds at once.

“Go now.” Gabe says, and the four are off, leaving Val and he on the roof of the three story building they scaled minutes prior. There are civilians trapped in a building across the street, and at the base of it, four bastion units stand guard, one at each corner.

“As soon as they reach the bottom floor, we'll open fire on these two up front. The other two will likely come forward then, giving Jack and the others their in from the back. When I say so, you and I will open fire. When all four are up front, we're going to drop the grenades. That will distract them enough to give the others some cover. They should have time to get the civilians out then, if we kill everything... That's our goal here.” Gabe reassures the woman beside him, ducked down in cover as he is.

“Sir- if I may question-”

“ _We've talked about this-”_ Gabriel growls.

“Sir! Why Morrison? You and he are a team no different from Ryan and myself. It would have been easiest for you to keep Jack here and send me in there- wouldn't it?”

“Not that it's any of your business, Val, but you're not the one being groomed for leadership! _Now obey my orders_...” He snaps, tapping the comm device on his ear. “Team, report.”

“ _We're in position sir. Waiting for your signal._ ”

“Remember, rush with the grenades, not the first fire. Wait for those bastions to be clear before you push in.”

“ _Copy, Sir._ ”

This is it. Gabriel nods at Val, and though she seems surprised from what she heard moments prior, now is no time for debate, nor is it her call. She and Gabe erupt from their cover, and with rifles in hand, open fire on the two bastions posted at the corners closest to them. The sound ricochets off of all the nearby buildings, making the battle sound far louder than it is. Dust and debris drifts up and away from where the bullets land, some burying into metal, and others into cement concrete, asphalt and drywall. Gabe ducks down to reload, and a second later, Val does the same. From here, they can hear the sound of the other two omnics abandoning their places and shifting into turret form at the base of the building.

“Ready?” Gabriel asks, unclipping two grenades from his belt. Val follows suit and nods. Then, in a quick jerk, they lurch up from their position, pull the pins and lob the grenades as quickly as they can, though the bastions are just as fast, if not faster, and both of them drop to the ground, their armored vests plucked with bullet holes. Gabriel groans as a searing pain rolls through the right side of his chest. Val does likewise, for the middle of her chest and arm. They're both bleeding, but the slowness of it is the only encouraging part of it, suggesting that no vital arteries were hit. With any luck, nor were any serious organs. Val wheezes.

“C-Captain?” She asks. Reyes is on his back, trying to catch his breath, but there's stars in front of his eyes. “Captain Reyes!” She shouts.

“I-I'm fine...” he growls barely, managing to roll over. “Team- R-Report!” he coughs. His voice is sore and it hurts to breathe.

“ _On our way to the civilians, Sir! Reporting... Six. Six alive and breathing. Two injured. Copy.”_

“Copy. Evac is almost here.” Reyes chokes, rolling onto his stomach, trying to catch his breath and read the clock on his wrist. A minute and a half.

Suddenly a pool of blood rolls out of his mouth, drooling onto the roof beneath him, sliding over his SEP gloves, the metallic taste of it on his tongue like gunpowder.

_What is happening?_

He feels himself go faint, and the next thing he knows, the world is black.

 

Val's screaming voice echoes into his ears.

_“Evac! Team Royal needs immediate evac on the rooftop, Reyes is down! I repeat, Captain Reyes is injured!”_

All he can hear now is the beating of his heart as blood rushes through him. Throbbing, almost burning pain rolls through his body and mind. He's choking, drowning on his own blood.

 

The darkness consumes him.

 

It's dark when his eyes open. There's a steady beeping nearby, the hookups of an IV plugged into his arm. Gabriel stirs, trying to move, but his vision is blurry at first, showing the world in hazy blues, greys, and black tones. Then, he realizes he's bound down. He can't move, and there's buckles at his wrists, ankles and neck. Bindings. Restraints... But why? His eyes twist, trying to focus on something, anything, before panic sets in, trying to find some kind of answer.

Eventually, a figure comes into view, a blurry black smudge that approaches the end of his bed.

“There you are.” It says. It's Walcott. He sounds pleased, somehow, or relieved, but it's not what Gabriel wanted to hear. “Glad you made it, Son...” Slowly, Gabe's eyes focus and land on the man. The Colonel is wearing his traditional attire, groomed, at ease, seeming happier than Gabe thought he should have been.

“Colonel... Sir. My team.” Gabe needs to know, needs to hear that they got out.

“Alive and well, Captain. Successful, too. They're in recovery, some of them.”

“...Morrison, Sir?”

“I had to force him to go back to bed, or else he wouldn't have left, Reyes. You just lay there and be still. We've gotta talk.” His voice becomes somewhat serious.

 

 _This was it,_ Gabe thought. _This was the part where he was going to be told he was dying, or paralyzed, or discharged, or some other terrible thing._

 

“S-Sir?” Gabriel's throat feels like sandpaper, raw and dry, and in pain. “How long have I been... out?” There was still a faint pain in his chest, but at the moment it was more like an itch he needed to scratch.

“Almost a week, Reyes. We didn't know if you were going to make it or not... But you... Your body... It seems...” Walcott's eyes are wide, somewhat mystified, but the shock of what's on his mind has faded somewhat over the last few days of Reyes' unconscious.

“What? What's wrong with me, Colonel?” The pause is too much for Gabriel to take.

“ _Nothing._ That's the problem.”

“...Sir?”

“Look... This is going to sound... Bad, but it isn't. You boys all heal faster. Sure you've noticed that, right? Those injections we've been giving you. They help with that... But your healing factor seems to have gone into overdrive, and we can't rightly explain why. When we picked you up, your armor had bullet holes in the chest piece, but when we looked at you, there was nothin' there. Scarring, but nothin' else. You were drowning on your own blood somehow. I don't know how the hell to explain that. X-rays reveal you've still got the souvenirs, too. Now we went ahead and removed any other shrapnel we found, but the bit in your chest, that's a little too deep to bother getting to now that you've already healed up over it, at least when we're as understaffed as we are, and you're needed this much. Guess you're just going to have to deal with that. The medics say you should be good to go in a few days, if you woke up... Figure you'll need some time to recuperate from this. Anyway, good to see you alive, Soldier. I'll send someone to bring you food.”

“Sir- can't I go and get it myself?” He asks, but Walcott looks back at him, brows slightly raised.

“I uh... Wouldn't recommend that, Soldier. You scared a few of the assistants when you came in. Give them a little time. They'll let you loose.” Then, the Colonel turns and leaves. Gabriel is mystified and has no recollection of what happened.

 

It's an hour before anyone brings him anything, and when they do, Jack is on their heels. The assistant leaves as soon as the delivery is done, and she's finished releasing him from the bindings on his limbs and neck.

“Morrison! You're alive-” Gabe starts, and Jack comes to his bedside, leaning in suddenly without any hesitation. He doesn't care that there might be cameras. He kisses Reyes on the lips, his brows softening.

“Gabe... You're awake... Finally. I thought-” His voice trembles.

“Shh. I know what you thought... I'm tougher than that.” Gabriel rasps. Jack smiles. “Where's Val? And the others? Are they okay?” The captain asks.

“Eddie took a little damage, but nothing life threatening. Merrick is with him. Ryan and Val are... Somewhere. Val hasn't... Well she hasn't been right since things happened. I think she was afraid we were losing you. She wont talk to anyone about the situation.”

“Oh... Right. I'll talk to her, then.” Gabe laments. He looks down at his would-be dinner. It's hardly a banquet, but its traditional SEP food, and at the moment there's nothing he wants more. His hands smooth the ache in his wrists where the bindings were, and soon he's eating.

“Hey... Gabe?” Jack asks as he sits nearby.

“Mmhn?”

“Did.. uh. Did something happen... Between you and Val? On the rooftop I mean. She's being real strange towards me.”

“... Strange... how?” Gabe asks, brows furrowing.

“... Well I just... I don't know. She said something when we were getting Evac'd out. When we first arrived back here I mean, and they were wheeling you away. They wouldn't let any of us go with you, or see anything. She said something about uh...” He looks down and lowers his voice. “Some of them having to actually _work_ to get ahead...”

“Oh...” Gabe grunts. _Goddamnit. This is not what he wanted to happen._ He should have known that saying anything would have some consequences. “I wouldn't put too much thought into it, Jack. Val is a strong Soldier, just like you are. Maybe she doesn't feel right about... What we're doing.”

In fact, most people probably didn't, but no one was in a position to argue when it was more or less being allowed to happen by the SEP given how well everything still seemed to be going. Jack grunts and looks down. It's obvious that he doesn't accept the excuse, but he doesn't care to pry right now, at least not while Gabe is still in a hospital bed.

“Walcott says you'll be out soon.”

“Today. I don't need to still be here.” Gabe murmured in reply.

“Don't you? Then why are they keeping you here? Why... are there restraints on your bed?” Jack asks, now that no one's here to stop him from asking.

“I was hoping you, or someone else would tell me. I don't exactly remember being combative.”

“Ah... Okay. Well, guess I'll let you eat in peace now that you're awake.” The blond moves to stand, preparing to take his leave.

“Don't be stupid, Jack. The Colonel says he had to force you out of here. You're going to leave as soon as I wake up?”

“Do you want me to stay, Gabe?”

“... Yes. Stay with me, Jack.”

 

~

 

Angela's medicine works its wonders as usual, and the memories come in larger chunks, causing Gabriel to do a hell of a lot more zoning out as he sits, either sipping coffee, watching shows or standing in the training room. This time, he was out in the envirodome when it hits, and he looks down, smiling some. The sun mirrored in from outside warms his frame as he lays out on the grass, soaking up the light and the heat where the rest of the base offers so little of it. A fresh feeding hours prior with Angela has renewed his flesh and eyes, returning his body to its natural luster and shape. As usual, after feeding, he feels _good_. Almost _too_ good.

So much so that when someone comes to disturb him, he almost doesn't want to emerge from his daydream.

“Ey, Gabi, what the hell're you doin' out here?” Jay's there, leaning over him, her head breaking the sunlight in his face, effectively blotting it out.

“Relaxing. What you ought to be doing. Why are you here, Jay?” Gabriel asks.

“I'm bored, and there's only so many things I can eat, drink and watch before I have to do something else. Come train with me.” The persistent girl urges.

“I just trained you this morning, and the morning before that, and before that.” Christ, has it already been a week since Gabriel started working with the new recruit? It doesn't feel like it, but no one has raised any concerns. In fact, everyone seems glad of it to some respect, even Jack, whose last smile lingers in the back of Gabe's mind. It was a small, fleeting thing that the Soldier flashed as he passed behind Gabe and Jaelen in the training room, and the shade barely caught it out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, but I'm _bored._ You're bored too. Look at you, doing normal human shit, ey?” She teases. Gabriel smirks faintly. “Some big _scary_ terrorist _you_ turned out to be.” Jay muses at him, eventually coming to sit on the grass beside him.

“What makes you think I'm bored?” He asks.

“Sitting in the sun doing nothing doesn't seem fun, does it? Nothing exploding, or dying. Why are you even here, Gabi? I mean... here. Overwatch. You gonna tell me or is it some big secret?”

“I haven't quite decided why I'm here. Just am.”

“Okay but... Like... Talon, ey? What about them?”

“I suppose you could say my contract with them has... Ended. They stopped giving me a reason to be there. Overwatch had something I needed.”

“Oh? And what's that? Not _sunlight,_ I hope.”

Gabriel laughs, smile widening. “No. Not sunlight. You heard about the explosion, yeah? Obviously... The fall?”

“Duh. Like everyone.”

“Well. After that... I didn't have any memories. None. Woke up in some shit-hole of a medbay. Talon base. I still don't quite remember what all happened there. Talon wasn't giving me any kind of help with it. It's like they didn't _want_ me to remember... I started to notice that the more time I spent away from Talon, the more I remembered. So, I left. When I finally mustered the nerve to go with Overwatch, Angela started giving me something to help. Something to bring them back.”

“... So that's what you're doin' out here, then? Just laying around soaking up memories?” Her features were hardly impressed. Looking away, she almost seemed embarrassed. “You're a goddamn sap, Reyes. I swear.”

Gabriel brushes off the comment and sits up.

“And what about you? Why are you here?”

“I told you, Jesse recruited me.”

“Yeah, but how? When?”

“A couple weeks ago, in Owellton... See I knew him from there. We discovered each other a few years ago I'd guess. Discovered we had some things in common. He started placing bets on me when I'd fight, and like any true gentleman, he'd try to buy me a drink... Poor guy, I turned him down a lot. Just figured he couldn't find a lady.”

These words make Gabriel snort. “I don't imagine that's the problem. Besides, he's a little old for you, isn't he?”

“How _old_ do you think I am? Besides, you're one to talk. I saw you making googly-eyes at the Soldier.” She snorts.

Gabe lofts a brow at her, nudging her with his elbow.

“At least Jack is my age.” He rebukes, unable to deny his looks.

“Is he? Look at you. If you don't age, or something, it's the same problem, isn't it?”

“So you're saying you don't think Jesse's too old for you?” Gabe pries, smirking. The girl shifts uncomfortably.

“That's not what I'm sayin'. I think... It probably doesn't matter how old he is. I'm twenty-five... I imagine he's about forty, or maybe a little younger, but I don't care. Age doesn't matter to me, so long as it isn't... Gross.”

“Subjective, isn't it? Do you think me and Jack would be gross?”

“You're both old men, it'd probably be gross regardless.” She snorts candidly. Gabriel laughs, but takes no offense. “Besides. You probably can't even... Uh. Do the deed.” She adds.

“ _What._ ” Gabe scoffs. “Like hell I can't. I'm not a fucking zombie, Jay.”

“Okay, but what about him? You don't even know, do you? What if he has _E.D. Or something?”_ Suddenly, Gabe is laughing again. He can't help it. The way she talks and holds back nothing, even from him, is heartwarming and hilarious to him.

“He's a super soldier, Jay. Somehow I doubt he has that problem. Besides... I am aging, albeit slowly. And, I wouldn't worry about Jesse hitting on you... Women aren't exactly his style. It's a cowboy thing for him- the drink, I mean. He probably just respects you, and wants you to know.”

“Is _everyone_ in Overwatch gay? I didn't exactly sign up for-”

“Hey. No. Ana's... Uh, definitely not. Angela's not.”

“Tracer is, you are, Jack is, Jesse is, Ana's daughter might be-”

“Okay, Maybe... But I'm not. I had a girlfriend once.”

Jay snorts. “ _Yeah, once.”_ And then she laughs. Gabriel can't help his own eyeroll.

“Look, this doesn't matter. I'm not going after anyone anyway. Jesse's got his eyes set on someone anyway, so you don't gotta worry about him.”

“Ah well. That's good I guess. There's this cute guy in one of the med labs, ey? I seen him a couple times. Maybe I'll buy him an espresso and go say how d'you'do.”

“Maybe you should. If it would distract you from needing to kill things.”

“I still want to train, goddamnit, Gabi.”

“You said you and Jesse had some things in common. What was that?” he pries, wanting to know her better.

“Deadlock. I know they ain't as strong as they used to be, but they're around. When I was a kid I was a rebellious little brat. Ran off and got myself into trouble with them. Did that until they robbed my folks around four years later. When I tried to get back what they took, they threw me out. I've been half way between runnin' from 'em and wanting to off em all for years now.”

“What'd they steal?”

“Oh... Nothin' big, you know...” She utters sarcasm so fluidly that Gabriel may as well have taught her how to do it himself. “Some priceless heirlooms, and about six million dollars from a locked vault in the basement. Trashed the estate when they did it, too. My folks were loaded, but not after that. They could barely afford to clean up the mess. Even though I wasn't living with them, it sat with me wrong.”

“Ah. I see. So you ended up in Owellton... Until I demolished it.”

“Yeah. Somethin' like that. Gotta say, it's a lot cooler seeing that in person and not on a TV screen... Especially without the guns.”

“I wasn't expecting to kill anyone that night. Jesse sprung it on me. I needed to feed. When I get real hungry or injured, it's difficult to avoid the urges. So, they're keeping me fed.”

“Yeah? You look better today than yesterday. You fed this morning?” And Gabriel nods at her. “Well good. You should have plenty of energy then for the lesson. Come on.” Jay says, moving to stand. He groans and protests, naturally. Jay, in her infinite wisdom, leans over him, latches her hands onto the strings of his hoodie and then suddenly yanks down, causing the entire hoodie to collapse in around his face, and there's a muffled roar of rage from the wraith as she bolts from the area, with a ghosted mentor on her heels, barking lightly-salted profanities the entire way.

 

Jack can't help but find himself giddy with amusement, watching the pair leave from the envirodome from where he'd been sitting, some distance away in the shade for the better part of two hours, totally unnoticed by either of the two.

 

~

 

Gabriel stands in his bathroom later, only just now peeling away the hospital clothing they've had him in for the last few days. Looking down, he tries to assess the new scar. It's smaller than he thought it would be- a circular, lighter patch of flesh, starburst shaped. Still, Gabriel wheezes when he breathes. Leaning forward, Gabriel glances at it in the mirror. He notices it then.

It's small and barely there, but he notices it all the same.

Smoke.

Just barely.

There's a trace of something that drifts away from his shoulder, somewhere behind him. Suddenly, it itches, and Gabriel reaches forward, pulling open the adjoining mirror and using it to look at himself as he turns. He bares his back to the mirror, glancing over his shoulder. There it is, a small black patch, barely more than a pinprick now, but it's forming a scar, similar to the one on his chest. A small piece of _something_ sticks out of it, something that the medics must have missed before, too high to have been in the X-Rays they took. Shrapnel. Growling, Gabriel leans forward and hoists his arm over, using a palm to his elbow to extend his reach. With a wince and groan, he latches onto the metal shard and jerks it free. The wound starts to bleed, but as soon as it forms a drop, suddenly, it halts. The wound forms the most bizarre looking scab he's ever seen, seeming to cauterize itself over. The new patch looks just like the rest, black and hard... Like charcoal. He runs his finger over the new wound, and it disintegrates on his touch, scattering to the floor beneath him, but before he can lean to collect it- it's gone. Just like that, every evidence of it's bizarre occurrence has disappeared. The wound, now little more than another scar on his flesh...

Gabriel couldn't explain it, and worse still, he didn't want to talk about it. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, and he didn't want to start thinking he was immortal... That was a dangerous line of thought to follow, and he had no intention of letting it settle. The medics must have seen similar on him when he was first brought in... But what about Val? What was going on with her? What did she know that she wasn't telling anyone?

 

Gabriel redresses himself after a cold shower and rolls into bed, but his mind struggles to sleep. It's around twenty minutes later where there is a sudden, abrupt buzz at his door.

“Captain Reyes. It's Jack. You sent for me?”

No. He didn't. But... Jack was here all the same. Why? Gabriel shifts out of his bed, wearing just his boxers, and comes to the door all the same. A hand slides over the lock and then cracks the open. Jack is standing there, his face hard set, his voice low.

“We need to talk.” he rumbles. Gabe is concerned, but he opens the door entirely anyway and lets Jack in. The blond is composed, if barely. He keeps his voice down, but Gabe can tell the man is irate. It's a rare thing to see, but Gabe knows anger when he sees it.

“When the fuck were you planning to tell me, Reyes? When did you think it was going to be a good idea to-”

“Whoa, Jack... Calm down, what's going on-” Gabe tries to soothe the man who suddenly goes off on him.

“You fucking know what's going on. That's why Val's been off, Ryan's been off. You told them didn't you, you've put me up for promotion... Goddamnit Reyes. Why the hell- how _could_ you do this to me? To _us_. I'm your partner Reyes... If this all goes down-”

“Hey... Jack...” Gabe puts his hands up, trying to calm the Soldier down, but Jack isn't having it.

“No, don't try to charm me, Reyes, don't try to calm me the fuck down. Don't try to use your manipulation on me. It's not going to work here, now. You and I both know what will happen if they promote me. I get a team and get sent who the fuck knows where. You know that Reyes. You know that if I'm promoted, we get torn apart, and this ends. God damn it... Gabe...” Jack's eyes are sore and glassed over. Gabe laments what he's done immediately, and he moved forward, putting his hands on Jack's arms. The blond shudders and then pushes Gabe away suddenly, roughly. Taken aback, Gab's lips form a thin line and he walks back until his rear hits the edge of the couch, his arms dangle listlessly at his sides as Jack rages at him.

“This will _break us_ , Reyes- I thought... I thought that it meant _more_ to you than this! I thought that we were in this _together,_ but instead, all you can see is your blind rage, your need to... To end them! God- how could you do this, how could you not tell me, all this while you've been grooming me to send me away. Is that what it was? Is that all it is? Were you just trying to set me up to send me away?”

“No.” Gabriel says quietly. Jack is in tears at this point, but Gabriel can't find anything to say. This hurts. Seeing Jack this way, knowing he wouldn't understand, breaks him.

“So- So what then, you're going to just stand there and let this happen?” The blond asks. Gabriel steels himself, or so he tries, as Jack closes the distance between them, now standing directly in front of the dark man.

“Look at me, Jack.” And so the Soldier does, straightening up if only a little. He stares into Gabe's eyes, and he can see rage behind them. It's been growing ever since the initial attack, but in truth, it's been there all along, since day one of SEP, and probably long before that. Gabriel was made for this war. Made and ready to defeat anyone who stood in his way... Jack was never part of the plan.

But in all of this rage he sees something else... Sadness. Regret.

“This wasn't easy for me, Jack. This was never how I wanted things to happen. From the very beginning, I told myself that this... That this affection I had for you was silly. That it was a mistake, a thing that I shouldn't foster... But you... You got under my skin, Jack, and I caved. I had no choice, it was involuntary. I... Adore you, Morrison. Beyond anyone else- more than anyone else I have ever known. And I want this.” Gabriel's hand has lifted, now resting on Jack's side, smoothing his flesh beneath the tank top he wears. “I want this, Jack. I do. But... I came here with a purpose... And I'm not giving in until that purpose is fulfilled, or until I'm dead. If I give up on this, we will _all_ die. Don't you see, Jack? This is all I have left. _Rosa_ is all I have left. She can't fight this war, but I can, and I will. If I don't do this, if we don't win, She, and everyone else we've ever known or loved will die. Even the people we've never met, Jack. People who deserve a chance to live, people who can't fight. As it stands, the SEP dwindles seemingly by the day. Bennison is dead. What's left of his team is in tatters, along with countless other teams. They need a leader, Morrison, and that man is you. I have been watching you, and yes, grooming you. I knew that someday the world would need you for something... And I think it's this. I think that you and me can end this war, Jack... And we need to. It was a hard decision. One of the hardest I've had to make in a while.” His other arm comes up and he tugs the soldier close to him, so that their chests touch. Jack's head lowers into Gabriel's shoulder, and the Captain allows his arms to come around him.

“Do this for me, Jack.” He continues. “Do this for me, and I will make you a promise. A promise I can't break.”

“What promise?” The blond asks, his hands loosely brushing over Gabe's new scars.

 

“I promise you, Jack, that if we come out of this alive... If we survive this hell, that I will have you. That you will be mine, and I'll be yours, and we'll have this for as long as we can...

 

… I love you, Jack.”

 

These words settle upon Jack like bricks, and suddenly he sobs. He can't contain himself. His arms tighten around Gabriel, and Gabe's tighten around him in return.

 

“I love you, too, Gabe.” the man manages to choke out.

 

Jack stayed with him that night. Gabriel eventually released his hold and tugged Jack's arms down, hands clasped, and drew him towards his bedroom. He shut the door behind them, and for the first time, invited the blonde into his bed. There was no lust to be had tonight, not with all that had happened, and not with Gabe's continued wheezing and the sheer weight of what looms over their future. Still, Gabe's arms come around him as they sleep, and he finds comfort in the gentle rise and fall of Jack's rib cage, the smell and heat of his skin pulled up close against his flesh.

It was a feeling that Gabriel would never quite feel the same without, even if he didn't realize it as the Reaper.

 

The following morning, they rise to the sound of the SEP morning alarm, and Jack hastily retreats to his own room to shower and throw on clean clothes as Gabriel does the same in his own. A particularly horrid fit of coughs catches him, however, and he spends the next fifteen minutes wheezing, hacking and choking until finally a prize reveals itself. The taste of metal is the first he has as it scrapes the walls of his esophagus on the way out of his lungs. Hands catch the assailant in a small pool of blood, and Gabriel holds it into the brightest part of the bathroom light.

A bullet, dented against the bone of his ribs and well worn, scraped and stained in blood, now coughed out of him as if little more than a nuisance. Gabe's lips twitch into a small, almost malevolent smile, pleased with his victory over such a little thing.

For now, he pockets it, washes his hands clean, and heads out to begin the day.

 

He finds Val just after breakfast. She's in the training room with Ryan, working out as they often did while waiting to be deployed. Sweaty, panting and distracted, just like her partner, who seems mildly concerned for her. It's a recurring theme, really. She notices Gabriel and seems to smile, but there's something about it that's off. Ryan doesn't seem to have the same problem, giving weight to the idea that Val had seen something that she wasn't letting on. Still, he approaches the two, and they seem impressed by the fact that he's already up and walking around, breathing more or less normal.

“Hey you two. Back in shape, it seems. Good to see.” Gabe greets.

“Same to you, boss.” Val says, but she's wary, evident in her eyes and a hint in her voice. Gabe smiles at her all the same and tilts his head. “Ryan? Mind doing a few laps for me?” He tilts his head, making it clear that he and Val need to have a talk that doesn't exactly require an audience.

“Sir, yes sir.” The soldier says before turning to jog off. He can already guess what this is about, and doesn't need to stay, still, Gabe is able to catch the small look of concern that passes between Val and Ryan before he leaves.

Gabriel wants to say something to Val, about opening her mouth to Ryan, who then probably blabbed about it to Jack, but he doesn't, knowing it wont get them anywhere. After all, he was the one who had snapped at her in the first place, a detail he already regretted. Instead, he brings up what's actually bothering him.

“You're a little off, Val. Jack tells me you're not talking to people about what happened on the roof top. I figured you might be willing to tell me.” He's forward and to the point, not wanting to waste any time. They both know _something_ happened up there, but no one's really sure what, except for Val, who's petrified by it, or so it seems.

“Uh... I uh.. Um. I mean. It doesn't matter, does it? You're here, alive. So it's all good.”

“It's a command, Val. Now, Walcott could have ordered it, but he didn't, so I'm asking, because I was there. You and I both know that shot should have killed me, but I'm standing here now. You tell me why.”

“Yeah... Wow. _Okay._ Look, I didn't do anything, okay?”

“ _Sir._ ” He corrects her, reminding her that this is formal. “Tell me, Val, what happened on that rooftop, specifically.”

“Here, sir?” She asks, tilting her head slightly, and though the gesture is very faint, he can tell she's leery because of the cameras, and the chance that others might overhear. Gabriel sighs, which is a lot easier now that he's not juggling a bullet around in his lungs.

“Alright. Fine. Weight room, then.” It's not far, but at the moment, it's empty, and no one's likely to go there. At least, not while everyone's somewhere between rest and recovery. Both of which the medics would say that Gabe should have been doing, instead of interrogations on his own team. He turns to go, and she follows. The weight room, blue and white like everything else, is somewhat secluded, with a door that slides open for them and then closed after they've entered. It's colder here, and goosebumps form on Val's skin, but... He can't help but to wonder if that's the actual cause. Gabriel turns and leans against a stack of barbells, arms crossing over his chest. Val fidgets with her fingers as she stands in front of him, eyes down, only occasionally meeting his stare.

“Talk.” He orders.

“Sir.” She acknowledges, and she struggles to compose her words, but Gabriel is patient. Sucking in a breath, she stammers before correcting herself and straightening up. She starts over. “During the mission, you and I stood, threw the grenades, then dropped as fast as we could. Not fast enough. We were both hit, but you had gotten it worse than me. The bullet went through your armor, which shouldn't have happened in the first place, but there wasn't anything we could have- ah” She was getting off topic, and knew it. Clearing her throat, she continued. “You fell, and you started choking up blood. Then you were on your stomach, and it seemed like you were unconscious. I called for evac, but as I was doing that... Something happened to you. I'm not sure how, or... But you were bleeding. It wasn't too bad, but it was enough to be worrying.” Her voice has begun to tremble and her eyes have taken a far away look to them.

“Then something strange happened. You seemed to have a seizure of some kind. Your body twitched, convulsed. Blood poured out of your mouth and out of the wound, but it... It wasn't the same. It wasn't normal. It was black, and it smoked... Smoked like... Like it was on fire or something. You tried to pick yourself up then, but failed, your muscles twitched and gave out on you. It looked like an animal was coming awake in you, or like you were suddenly possessed. Naturally, you struggled. Your head snapped up and you looked at me, but you weren't in there anymore. Your eyes weren't normal, they were bright red and black, like a demon. You screamed at me, like you were in pain, then rolled over onto your back. Smoke drifted out of you, just... Pitch black like you were burning from the inside out. You screamed again. I tried to help you, but when I got near, you lashed out at me, like you wouldn't let me touch you. The blood, when it hit the ground... It was just gone seconds after it landed. I... couldn't explain it. When evac finally arrived, it was just the same. They had to bind you down so you wouldn't attack them. So they... They sedated you and hid you away from all of us; they didn't even let us see you until four hours after you'd been in the medbay.” She's leery of him, even now, as she keeps a solid four feet between them at all times, even now as she pauses, coming out of the memory to look at him, as if searching for proof that he was very much normal now.

“I've never seen anything like it, Captain... And I'm not sure I'd want to see it again... I... What _happened_ to you? No one else was like that... No one else has had events like that... Have they? Has this happened to you before? Are you _human_ , Sir?” She asks, and Gabe's eyes widen.

“Of course I'm fucking human, Soldier. Don't be ridiculous.” Still... Hearing her talk unnerved him. Could all of that have actually happened, and if so, how? Was this just an unpleasant side effect of the injections? None of his other injuries had gone over like this... But then, none of his other injuries had been life threatening, had they? Come to think of it, none of the side effects were even remotely close to what she described, not only to him, but to anyone else in SEP that he'd heard of or seen himself. This was totally abnormal. He might have thought she was hallucinating it, if he hadn't dusted the soot-like scab off of himself.

“Did... Did they tell you anything about it?” She asks tentatively.

“No. Not really. They just said it looked like my healing factor had gone into overdrive.”

“Is it going to happen to the rest of us?”

“I... I don't know. I wouldn't worry about it too much Val. Even if it does, I didn't feel anything, and I'm still alive. Maybe it's scary, but it seems to have saved me, whatever it was.” This seems to placate Val some, and she nods. “Are you going to be alright?” He asks her.

“Sir, yes Sir.” She agrees, then dips her head.

“Good. Thank you. Dismissed.... Ahh, Val?” He calls as she starts to leave, and she stops at once. He continues. “Did you tell Ryan about this?”

“No, Sir... I wanted to see you before anything... Happened.” How strange would she have looked if she'd gone telling that story around and then he died there after? Gabriel nods in understanding.

“It wouldn't be a good idea for the others to start worrying about themselves or panicking over the idea of something similar happening to them... Best not to say anything to them. Alright? Not even Ryan. Might save his life.”

“Yes, Sir.” She replies, though it's clear by her tone that she had no intention of telling anyone any part of this, mainly because it made her sound like a lunatic. Even now, Gabriel had to wonder how much of that was in her terrified mind and what it was actually like in person. All the same, she was one of his tough Soldiers, and she was shaken up. They'd all been through tough shit before now, as war seemed to have that effect on people, but... None of that had affected her like this before. This had to be moderately serious, even if it wasn't entirely accurate.

 

And if it was true... What could have caused it? The injections? A disease? SEP testing? Was he just another failed experiment? Was he going to die now? So many questions tumbled around in his head, but at the height of all those questions, these stood out the most.

 

Was he immortal now?

 

What had Gabriel Reyes become?

 

One thing was for certain. He could _not_ tell anyone else about this.

 

Not even Jack.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! As promised, this chapter is out a few days early because I wont be getting internet back until late in the day Sunday. Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Sorry if I dont reply to you guys so promptly, I have been INSANELY busy.


	25. Advance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Heavy Smut

~

 

For Gabriel, this memory is a shock, because he now knows beyond any doubt that what Val saw _was_ Reaper. But how? How could she have seen it then, all the way back in SEP? How, when Talon wasn't even around? Had Reaper existed that long inside of him and only just then manifested? What even _was_ it that had happened to him that day, and why, if Reaper existed that long ago, didn't anyone else seem to know about it? Surely Jack would have seen it at some point, right? Or perhaps he would have at least... Told him? _Wouldn't he have told him?_ Gabriel is beside himself. For the entire morning, he's distracted and off. He's not entirely sure he wants to tell anyone _now_ about the memory either. What would it say about him, and about Reaper, if he did so? Was he actually- had he _actually_ betrayed everyone here? Was it _him_ all along, and not Talon at all? Was he simply on a wild goose chase to try and redeem himself for something that was wholly, entirely his doing?

He needed to know.

The mission to find proof was suddenly all that much more important.

 

 _And what if it is, Gabriel?_ The haunting voice seemed to taunt him. _What if it was you all along? What will you do then if they prove it's true?_

 

Gabe didn't want to think on this. He couldn't. If it was true... Well, he'd have to come to terms with it at some point... But as of right now, that wasn't him. It couldn't be, he reminded himself... And if it was, he was going to make a change, because it wasn't who he was anymore.

 

He was still distracted by the time he arrived at his lesson with Jay an hour later.

“You alright, Gabi?” She asked as she reloaded her pistols with another cartridge of light ammo. In response, the twin weapons lit up in blue, as if they'd just been fed raw lightning.

“Huh? Oh... Yeah. I'm alright.” He rumbled back, eyes dropping down onto her. She shrugged, not fooled, but not daring enough to pry further just yet. The bots in the chamber before her quickened their pace as they bounced around the arena, and she picked them off one at a time, as quick as she was able.

“Y'ain't a bad shot, Kid.” Comes a familiar cowboy drawl from nearby. Jesse approaches, his spurs clicking as he comes to stand beside Gabe.

“Hey.” The shade greets, and Jesse dips his hat.

“Like you could do better?” Jay asks the gunslinger, picking off another two. McCree laughs.

“Reckon I could... Maybe not with those. Like the feel of old-fashioned metal myself, and my Peacekeeper ain't ever done me wrong.”

“Yeah well, some of us aren't stuck in the stone age.” She rebukes, turning around as her clip's empty. “And I'm not just talking about your fashion sense.”

“ _Y'owch._ ” Jesse muses like he's been burned, but he's smirking.

“It's no use, Jay. I've barked up that tree before.” Gabe tries, but he's interrupted.

“Ain't no surprise you two are makin' friendly.” Jesse snorts.

“No, Really, cowboy. You can drive a car, you can wear some normal clothes, right? Or did you only resort to cars because they were out of horses?”

“Now listen here-”

Gabe wants to interrupt, but... He doesn't. The faint smile on his dark lips speaks volumes for him. He can tell that for their banter, this is just fine.

“No, you listen. I bet you don't use regular guns cause you're afraid they'll burn you, 'ey? Or somethin' silly like that. Look'it you.” Her accent seems to get worse the more she talks to him, and Gabe can't help but think that if they actually ever got into a heated argument, no one would ever understand either of them. But, all at once, Jesse's had enough and strides forward, his left arm nudging her out of the way as his right hand slaps down onto one of her pistols. He reloads it in a second, much to her disdain, urging him to be careful with it, but the cowboy isn't listening.

Gabe's seen this look on Jesse's face before, and though he doesn't remember it properly, he knows what's coming. His smirk widens. Jesse lines up his shots and his eye fixates somewhere in the distance, like he's staring at a horizon that isn't there, only the back of the arena.

The man's body goes so still that he may as well have frozen in time, and to the two others there, it feels like it. Everything's quiet, even the whirring of the bots seems muffled somehow, and their movements slowed. Then, all at once, there's a blurred motion and the scream of six shots fired more or less all at the same time. The six bots don't even have time to fall before their bodies disintegrate and are absorbed by the chamber.

Jay stands slack jawed, mouth open, in awe.

“Ya done?” The cowboy asks, shoving her pistol back into her hand.

“W-W-” She stammers, looking between Jesse and Gabe, then back again. Both men are smiling. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” She shouts excitedly.

“That? That's called the Deadeye, little lady.” Jesse says, tipping his hat and moving away.

“Oh my god! Y-You- Where did you learn-” her eyes fasten on Gabriel. “You _have_ to teach me that!” She yelps, but Gabe's eyes widen, and Jesse erupts into laughter.

“I can't teach you that.” Gabriel responds smoothly.

“He didn't teach me all my tricks, kid. Some things you just gotta learn on your own... But... I guess you could say I had some good mentors. Go and ask our lady Ana about it sometime. Maybe she'll show you a thing or two.”

“ _The half blind sniper?”_

“Mind your tone.” Gabe warns firmly, eyes narrowing.

“She wasn't always half blind, and she's still one hell of a good shot.” Jesse replies, craning his neck somewhat, letting it pop.

Jay, stunned, but understanding, nods. “Right... Sorry then. Anyway. That was... Uh. Cool.”

Gabe smirks a little more, until his eyes land on something far more distracting.

 

Jack.

 

He's walking across the hall, headed towards several of the weight machines, wearing just a set of workout clothes, carrying a towel and a bottle of water. He's already damp, like he's been doing a few laps around the indoor track. The words from Gabe's memory echo through his mind. _I love you, Jack._ Jaw clenches and he swallows hard.

“Gabe... Gabe? _Hello?”_ Jay waves a hand in front of his face, and Jesse follows his line of sight to where Jack was getting ready to sit at a bench press.

“What?” Gabe asks, head snapping down to look at her.

“I was just sayin' we could go for a cold drink or somethin'.”

“Reckon he'll need a rain check on that, Carter.” Jesse clasps a hand on Gabe's shoulder. “I'll go with ya instead...” Jay shrugs and starts to walk away. McCree's eyes meet Gabriel's and he smiles. “Looks like the old man could use someone to watch for him... Go get 'im tiger.”

“ _Get out of here, Jesse.”_ Reaper growls with mild embarrassment, then recomposes himself. Straightening his hoodie, Gabe waits for Jesse and Jay to be completely gone before lurking his way over to Jack. Why are all the cool people in his life named with J's? It's a question to keep him from dwelling on what he's doing as he approaches. Jack doesn't even see him at first, at least, not until Gabriel appears overhead, looking down at him as the Soldier lowers the weights down to his chest for the first time.

“Christ. Like a ghost, even now. What're you doing here, Reyes?”

“Making sure an old man doesn't accidentally decapitate himself.” The dark man replies, a smile playing across his lips. Jack's lips twitch into a smile, but he doesn't reply to that, instead, resuming reps as he talks.

“See you've been making good headway with Carter. She good?”

“She's good. A little reckless and easy to frustrate, but good.”

“You're the only one she'd listen to. You must have impressed her.”

“Didn't take much. Paid for her coffee the first day she was here.”

Jack pants slightly as he continues. “Somehow I doubt that's all it was... That a deadeye I heard?”

“Just Jesse showing off. Trying to prove a point. You knew it?”

“You never quite forget the sound of it. Nothing else like it.”

“Mmn.” Gabe grunts. “Guess not. I remembered it too, just barely.”

“... Yeah?” Jack wants to ask more, and its obvious by his tone, but Reyes is hesitant to give up what he's discovered in the last few hours. “Anything else?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.” he lies instead. It's a bad thing to do, he knows, but he isn't ready. Maybe another memory would answer all the questions he had about it... Or maybe it would incriminate him if he did. If Jack can tell he's keeping something from him, he doesn't let on.

“Hey boys.” A familiar woman's voice calls out to them, and when Gabe looks up, Katie is standing there with Genji. They're both wearing tank tops with baggy black pants, and Katie's carrying a thermos of some kind of smoothie. “You bored enough to come keep score for me?”

“I'm not bored.” Jack replies, and why should he be? With Gabe spotting for him, he's getting an eyeful of muscle every time Gabe's hoodie shifts just the right way... Or his pants, for that matter.

“What's the game?” Gabriel asks casually.

“Ah, just a little spar.” Genji replies smoothly. “Thought you might want to watch.”

“You're going to fight _him_?” Jack asks to Katie, who shrugs.

“I've gotten in trouble for worse things. Come on, Jackie. It'll be fun.”

A tiny curl works itself across Gabe's lips, and reluctantly, Jack sits up.

“Alright. If only because I might die if I stay here.”

“Especially without such a... dutiful spotter.” Genji jabs the joke at them, and everyone laughs, given how not-long ago it was that Jack and Gabe had been quite literally trying to kill each other.

 

They arrive in the dojo minutes later, and Gabe takes a seat on the side, one knee propped up. Jack sits beside him, surprisingly so, given that he could have sat anywhere. It's a detail that doesn't go past Gabe, and inwardly, he smiles. Katie and Genji have adopted wooden swords for the spar, after all, they're not here to hurt one another actually. Katie ties back her hair with a bright blue ribbon, and Genji puts his helmet aside, revealing his head, metal jaw and head short of jet black hair.

The spar begins, a swing here, there, parries galore, and a lot of spinning. Now and then, there's the tell-tale thwack as a side of wood taps against flesh, and the two laugh with both their successes and failed moves. It becomes clear that if Genji wasn't seventy-five percent robotic, Katie would be going toe to toe with him at every turn. She's a little faster in her reactions than he is, and her form is flawless, but years of practice have honed him slightly more than her, with almost a decade of rust under her belt.

Before Gabe even realizes it, Jay has materialized seemingly from nowhere and adopted the other side of him, sitting on the floor and lightly leaning into him as she sips on a smoothie. She murmurs things through the fights, her mild opinions on how it's going or what she thinks should have happened... All of it uneducated guesses of course.

“I'm sure it's more complicated than that, Jay.” He'd say, and she'd snort.

“ _The world_ is more complicated than that, Gabi.” Then, without asking, she shoves her drink into his hands, an offer whether he wants it or not. She refuses to look away until he has a sip of it... Most of the time he just drank coffee or alcohol, but somehow the look she gives him if he dares to refuse is dangerous.

So he sips.

“... Is that coconut?” He rumbles at her.

“So you _can_ still taste things.” She muses, taking it back. “You like it?” She asks, watching the spar, eyes fixated on the way Genji moves... If that's _actually_ what she's looking at... It's hard for Gabe to tell if she's eyeing up the cyborg or not.

“It's not bad.” he replies finally.

Then, all at once, Genji goes down. He's on his back and his sword has been disarmed. Katie stands over him, triumphant, a smile on her lips.

“Mechanics aren't everything, Shimada. You got cocky.”

“...So I did. Again then, shall we?” He asks, and she helps him to his feet.

Jack leans slightly towards the other two.

“Twenty bucks says she downs him in another six moves.” He offers quietly. Gabe chuckles.

“Twenty says she does it in four.”

“Are you both _high?_ I say _fourty_ , he puts her down in five moves.” Jay rebukes, and their eyes all fasten back on the fight. The fighters, oblivious to the bets made between the three spectators, begin their next fray.

In the end, Jack wins the bets, and Jay, grumbling, pays up. So does Gabe, shrugging. Perhaps he was just hoping flesh would win out over metal faster than it had...

“Ms. Hall... I must say I am very impressed. You are very good.” Genji says as he bows, then straightens up. She returns the gesture and smiles.

“Well. I'm a little out of practice... Going through the motions on a target dummy isn't exactly the same as sparring with an actual person.”

“Even so! With a little bit of work, you could make a very valuable member of Overwatch's deploy team... If you wanted to. I mean.”

“Ah! Aha. I don't know about that, Shimada. I'm afraid the role of old-lady-badass is already filled in that department... I'm sure Angela and Mei would much rather have me working in their laboratories.”

“Ah. Well, it's up to you. I would still give it some thought. It was an honor, all the same.” He dips his head again, and then he glances to the others. “Good afternoon, my friends.” Then, the man leaves, making his way back elsewhere as Katie cools down on a bench.

“You guys go ahead. I'll see you later.” She says, letting them go for now, and they do, all three striding together as they make their way towards the exit.

“He was holding back! It was obvious!” Jay grumbles, their footsteps echoing as they stride along metal and rubber walkways within the training grounds, lights overhead providing a yellow gleam to the tops of their heads.

“Jay, where's Jesse? He went with you.” Gabe asks, realizing the cowboy never resurfaced.

“Somethin' about makin' a phone call. Might be busy for a while I guess.”

“Ah. Right.” The wraith replies, glancing to the side as Jack starts to break away from them.

“Good doing business with you two. I have work to get back to.” Jack says, effectively dismissing himself, and Gabe's eyes trail after him as the Soldier departs. It was nice, he thought, just getting to spend time with him, if only a little, even if they barely spoke.

Jay stares at him incredulously. “ _Fuck's sake.”_ She murmurs.

Snapping his eyes back onto her, his eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just fuckin' kiss him already. God. _It's pathetic, Gabi._ ”

Gabe's lips wrinkle downward and he reaches up with his left hand, fingers latching onto the red hoodie she's wearing today and pulling it down over her face, mildly distressing her, offering no words as to his thoughts on the matter. How nice it would have been if he was able to just... Do that? But, he couldn't... Not while so much of his history remained a mystery to him.

 

That night, he takes another pill.

 

~

 

Gabriel stands in Walcott's office now in his military fatigues, but this time, he's not standing in front of the Colonel, but beside him. In his hand, a small black box is held. Gabriel has managed to put his emotions on lock down for this moment, knowing that it had been a very real possibility, and now, here it was.

Jack Morrison stood in front of him, blue eyes staring right into his, daring him not to do it. Daring him not to hand over that Captain's rank in the black box... But Gabriel has no choice. As far as he can tell, the world waits on this decision. The weight of it settles on their shoulders. The black box is extended out to Jack, the lid of it opened.

Blue eyes flick down at it, and Gabe can almost hear Jack's heart break.

“Morrison, do you want to be a Hero or not?” Walcott asks.

“Sir, with all due respect, no. Not like this, I can-”

“Seventy-Six. Hundreds of _thousands_ will die if you do not do this. If you do not accept this rank, we will _all_ die. You must do this.” Reyes is formal, hiding away his emotions because he can't stand them. His jaw is tight, his stomach in twelve different knots... He's never been more conflicted than he is now.

“S-Sir... Colonel... May I have a moment with Captain Reyes... Alone, Sir?”

“... Son, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for all of us... I urge you to think about what this could mean for the world if you decline this offer... Still...” Walcott glances towards Gabriel, then nods, leaving to one of the other rooms nearby, shutting the door behind him, leaving Gabe and Jack standing there alone. Not Captain Reyes with Soldier Seventy-Six. No. Right now, it's just Jack with just Gabe standing there, staring at each other.

They are silent for a long moment, their eyes locked.

“Gabriel... I can't do this.”

“You can, and you will, Jack. You have to.”

“Gabe-”

“Jack... We will all die.”

 

“ _I don't want to leave you._ ”

 

“You'll see me again, Jack. I'm not dying tomorrow, or the next day.”

“ _We will die.”_

“We will if you do not take this pin from me, Jack. You have to have hope. You have to be strong and have faith that we will make it through this.”

“ _Why are you putting me through this?_ ”

Jack is crumbling, his emotion coming through in his eyes. It's quiet all except for the faint sound of Jack's heavy breaths, and Gabe's pulse in his ears. Suddenly, Gabe can't stand it anymore. As Jack starts to break, Gabe sets down the box and comes forward, his arms come around him, pulling him tight against his chest. “ _This wasn't easy for me, Jackie. None of this is. I hate this just as much as you do, but we need it... We need this, or the omnics win this war..._ ” His head dips so that their foreheads touch, and Gabe can see the dampness of tears on Jack's cheeks. Reaching up with a thumb, he brushes them away. “ _Jack... I made you a promise, and I'm not breaking that promise. We have to make it through this. It's the only way we can be together... And right now I need you. I need you to do this for me. I need you to be brave enough without me that you can carry this on. The world depends on it... I depend on it._ ”

Jack's eyes search Gabe's eyes, glazed over as they are. At once, he kisses him. It's a feverish, needy thing, strained with fear and sadness. He whispers a murmured _I love you_ beneath his breath and looks down. Gabriel studies him then kisses him again, this time far more gently, his hand smoothing over the blond's back.

“Can you do this for me, Soldier?” He asks.

Jack sucks in a breath and squares his shoulders.

He salutes.

“Sir, yes Sir.”

Gabriel reaches back and grabs the pin from its box, and carefully pins it onto Jack's fatigues, fingers slightly trembling, a thing that Jack can feel as it happens. Jack is a strong soldier, and he would be a powerful Captain, a powerful leader. Gabriel could feel it in his bones. He and Jack would be the difference in this war.

It takes them a moment, but they recover, and a few deep breaths later, Jack looks down at his pin. “Who am I being assigned?”

“Your team will consist of Soldier Fifteen, Thirty-Two, Forty-Four, Eighty-Three, and Eighty-Four. Those two are partnered. The rest have lost someone, somewhere down the line, or they've come from other teams. Still... A lot of solid veterans. You'll be fine. I don't know their names right off hand. It's on their paperwork, which waits for you in our room.”

“... _Our_.. room?” Jack asks.

“... You're replacing Bennison. He was my roommate, so while you're here, you'll be in the same room as me.”

“Oh... Right. Got it.” Jack seems nervous... Excited maybe? Gabriel chuckles.

“Shall I tell the Colonel it's safe to come in?”

“Uh... Yes, Sir.”

 

Gabriel turns, heading towards the door Walcott has locked himself behind.

“Sir?” Jack asks before he gets there. Gabe stops and glances back. “Who is replacing me on your team?” It was only right to ask.

“Her name is DeLina. Soldier Eight. The oldest remaining veteran that's still alive.” Gabe replies, then knocks on the door. Walcott emerges moments later.

 

“Ah! Good. I'm glad you boys got this sorted out. Congratulations, Son.” He says to Jack, extending his hand. “It's good to have you on our side. Now lets go get your paperwork done, shall we? I'll get you introduced to your new gents. Captain Reyes here will see you later, I'm sure. Thank you for your attendance, Captain. I know you trained this boy well, and he'll do a fine job.” Walcott clasps them both on the shoulder, then leaves with them. Reyes turns down the hallway to go the opposite direction.

 

_What have I done?_

 

Now, with his back to them, he can let his emotions go.

 

That night, Gabriel relaxes in front of his holo-tele, watching some old shows. This time, when the door opens, there's no knock, but instead, just the casual open of the door as Jack steps in, carrying the last of his things. Habitually, Reyes glances that way, and smiles for a brief moment.

“Well? What did you ask for...? For your one item.” He asks as the blond strides towards the vacant room that was now his.

“I haven't really decided.” Jack replies, flicking on a light just inside and setting his things in the proper places. When he emerges again almost a minute later, he's wearing pants.

 _Just_ pants.

Gabriel's brows slowly loft, and he gawks openly, making no attempt to hide his gluttonous stare.

“You could have asked for a small stalk of corn.” Gabriel jests, smirking at him, but Jack strides closer, coming onto the couch, but his piercing blue eyes make it clear that he's not interested in what's on the holo-screen. In fact, he's not interested in small-talk at all.

 _“I could have just asked for a box of condoms.”_ He murmurs abruptly as he puts his hand against Gabe's shoulder, pushing him to the side, twisting him so that the man lays on the couch, his back against the armrest, face up at Jack, eyes locked.

“... Yes. You could have.” Gabriel replies, his voice deepening, sultry. “But I doubt they'd give it to you.”

The dark man wets his lips with his tongue, looking down between them as Jack shifts, boldly sliding one of his knees between Gabe's two. The knee draws up, so that the top of his thigh grinds gently against Gabriel's crotch. It's a move that Gabe himself did before, to Jack. It was dominant, and makes him tense up with uncertainty. Eyes shift down, then back up, and he leans forward slightly. His rough hands slip onto Jack's sides, then around to his back, feeling over the scar that had formed over the impaling some time prior. He seems to fondly touch over it, as though it was a reminder of who Jack was... What he'd done, and how close Gabe had come to losing him.

“ _Don't act like I don't know what you're doing, Jackie._ ” His lips trace against the cup of Jack's ear as he whispers the words, making the other shudder faintly. The blond tucks his head down, pressing his temple against Gabriel's chin and turning it aside, exposing his neck. Jack's lips are soft when they press there, and less so when he suddenly nips, eliciting a small moan out of the man beneath him. The sound Gabe utters is exciting, erotic, and all too telling. Gabe loves this, or maybe he likes the pain... He wants to find out for sure. Jack, smirking, bites down a little harder, this time forcing a hot growl out of Gabe. The pain entices him, and his arousal soon becomes obvious as it throbs between them, trapped behind Gabe's loose sleeping pants. Jack bites again, threatening to leave a bruise that Gabe knows _can't_ be there.

“ _Fuck. Jack- stop. You know we can't._ ” The man groans.

“ _Like hell we can't.”_ He echoes the words from the first time they had kissed. Words Gabe spoke to him, stirring the beast even more. Fingernails bite slowly into Jack's skin as Reyes struggles to control himself. Jack is egging him on, and he knows it, but the Captain is so often well composed that even here, in the solitude of their room, he doesn't want to cave. Then, Jack moans into his ear, a response to the nails in his back- he loves it.

“ _Maybe I should have asked for a dildo, to do what you won't.”_

Gabriel growls roughly and abruptly, and his hands jerk further up, tangling into the man's blond hair and using it like a leash as he moves. Rolling, he twists Jack around so that the blond is beneath him, and throws his legs to either side so that he forces himself between them. A brutish hand still has a tight hold on the turf of Jack's hair, keeping their eyes locked as he almost manhandles him. Jack looks equal parts scared and aroused, staring up at Gabe and all the gorgeous muscle between, riddled over his arms and broad shoulders which seem to stand out all the more now than moments before. Even beneath Gabe's tank top, Jack can almost see the outline of every muscle there.

“ _You wouldn't dare replace me with a toy.”_ Gabriel seethes, his voice is deep, rasped, almost venomous. Jack wets his own lips, panting slightly, wondering if he's made a mistake with his words.

“No.” Jack agrees quietly, not wanting to anger the beast, but almost before he can get the words out, Gabe has taken over. He leans in and bites Jack's neck, hard, despite the caution in his mind. His hands roam over Jack's exposed chest, feeling him, pinning him. Now and then, the fingernails clip into him again, leaving red lines in his pale flesh, making him moan, marking him up. Lips trail down from his neck to his chest. This time, Gabriel's bite lingers, and after latching onto a patch of muscle, he sucks, causing it to bruise, leaving a dark hickey intentionally upon Jack's skin. It's almost like a branding. A warning for others to see, should they get the chance, that this man very much belonged to someone else, someone greedy, and entirely unwilling to share.

“ _You. Are. Mine._ ” Gabriel rasps as he looks up, his pupils widened and almost wicked seeming, but to Jack, it's just more of the animal he's been trying to unleash, possessive and primal. His own hands sweep down onto the chest that looms over him, feeling him through the fabric of his fitted shirt even managing to work beneath the hem of it so that he can feel Gabe's taut frame. Then, the top is in motion again, sitting upright, still wedged between Jack's thighs, and he reaches down to the bottom of his tank and hauls it up and over his head, tossing it aside carelessly. Their frames touch again, this time, skin against skin, echoing one another's warmth. Like a pair of well oiled machines, muscle rolls beneath skin, pressing and struggling for dominance, but, Jack's mind had already given in, and he makes no effort to stop Gabe. He wants this. Needs this... But Gabe is hesitating.

“ _What are you waiting for?”_ Jack whispers as Gabe works his way back up from his chest to his neck, nipping and kissing the entire way.

“ _You know damn well.”_ Reyes replies, hips grinding forward.

 _Protection._ Gabe has been adamant about it ever since they got this invested, and it was the one thing they didn't have.

He can barely murmur out a breathy curse before he feels Gabe's hand moving again. It traces down his chest, dragging fingernails the entire way, smoothing over fine body hair. Soon, he palms Jack through his pants, teasing over the blond's throbbing cock, making him groan. Then, fingers slip around the top hem of those pants. The next thing Jack hears is the sound of popping seams as his ruthless lover abruptly _rips_ the pants away, not caring if they need replaced later, quickly discovering that Jack's wearing nothing beneath. Their eyes meet, and Gabriel offers one of those small, knee-weakening smiles, he's clearly impressed that Jack planned for this.

“ _Christ... Gabe..._ ”

But still, the dominant man doesn't move to take him. Instead, his callused hands roam the pale Soldier, smoothing and clawing at the man, lips teasing over one nipple at a time before leaving another dark marking down on his rib cage. While one hand teases over the man, the other shifts up, past Jack's head all the way to the end table on the other side of it. He doesn't need to look to know what his fingers are searching for, and eventually, he finds it.

“ _W-what are you doing...? What is that?”_ Jack asks as Gabe's hand drops back down.

“ _Something I borrowed from the medbay. They won't miss it.”_ He's not sure if Jack's able to spy the label before it's out of his line of sight.

Lubricant, a tube of it, and he flicks it open in a second and pools a fair amount of it into his right hand, smoothing it over his fingers as he glances at Jack.

“ _Are you sure this is what you want, Jackie?”_ Gabriel asks his hand slips down between his cheeks, giving Jack a chance to say no, all the same.

“ _Gabe... Please..._ ” Jack murmurs, watching him.

Then, he's right there. Slick fingers glide over his opening, and much like before, Gabe starts slow, sliding just the tip of one finger into the man, but this time it's easily better than the last. No soap, no water to slow things down, but actual lubricant. Now, Gabe's hands don't feel _as_ rough, and the pain is almost nonexistent. The blond's head falls back against the armrest and he groans, toes curling against the couch on either side of Gabe. Chestnut eyes however are locked onto Jack's face, memorizing every expression he makes, watching the way his own movements affect the man. He wants more than to make Jack moan.

He wants to learn how to make him _scream._

Daringly, he dips his finger deeper, much to the other's pleasure, as his sudden moan reveals. His hole tightens against Gabriel, making his own cock twitch with need. Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Gabriel teases a second finger against the opening, enough to feel Jack shudder against it. This one too dips in, and soon, he drives his hand forward, making Jack arch up off the couch slightly, brows pinching before the fingers are slowly drawn out almost entirely. They drive in again, this time slipping past the second knuckle, and Jack lets go of a silent cry, which was more of a heavy breath than anything else. Once more, Jack's toes curl, and Gabe can feel his legs tighten against his sides, where the Soldier seems to hold him firm, not wanting him to leave or stop. Within Jack, Gabe's fingers curl, and suddenly, Jack's moaning louder than before, even more-so than in the shower.

“ _Oh fuck. That's it- right there._ ” Jack gasps, and Gabriel's smile widens. _That_ was the response he was looking for. His knuckles begin to thrust against the heated nerve, curling and grinding against it with each entry, causing Jack's breathing to quicken and the muscles in his torso tighten considerably, a display that the dark man admires shamelessly. _He adores that he's making Jack do this._ Before he knows it, he's panting too, just watching Jack like this enraptures him. His cock aches between his thighs, throbbing with want, and his ministrations have gotten rougher, so much so that his opposite arm keeps Jack pinned down to the couch while the other grinds into him, making him yelp more loudly, more quickly with the passing moments.

“ _G-Gabe... I need... I...”_

His begging is driving Gabriel insane. _Just do it,_ his mind screams at him. _Just take him. You want this. Give him what he wants. He deserves this._

 

“ _R-Reyes- fuck! I could be dead in a week and you won't-”_

 

Gabriel finally snaps. That was it. That was officially all the teasing Gabriel could take. He needed this, and Jack was practically begging for it. Taunting him for it.

 

“ _Shut up, Morrison.”_

It's gone on too long, and his body can't handle what it's being put through. This desire has built from an idle fantasy to an overwhelming craving for months, and now, here he is. Jack is in his room, _their room_ , beneath him. There's no more rules to hold them back, no time to waste for what they want. He could be dead in a week, it was true. They both could. If either of them had any diseases, they'd have never been allowed into the program, and even if they had any when they did get in, whatever the SEP pumped into their systems surely would have killed it off or eradicated it. And if it didn't? If they died in a week, it wouldn't matter anyway.

He draws his fingers out of the blond, making him whine with complaint.

Without warning, the opposite hand slides up Jack's torso, latching seductively onto his throat, cradling his Adam's apple with his palm. Jack's head tilts back and nerves run through his chest like he's been stuck with a live wire. The hand tightens. It's just enough to make Jack think about breathing, but it's exactly what he wanted. _Craved._ Gabriel stripped the last of his clothing away, it was a rag to clean the used hand, tossing it aside and letting Jack get an eyeful of what he was in for.

He can see the look in Jack's eyes... That nervousness.

 _Gabriel seems so much bigger now, looming over him, dominating him, than any time before. Gabriel's cock is absolutely as thick as the rest of him would suggest._ Jack's seen it before, but not like _this._ The look in Gabriel's eyes is primal, hungry, and Jack _wants_ to be devoured whole by this monster. When Gabriel's voice comes again, it's barely his own. Jack might not have recognized it at all, if he hadn't heard it a few times prior.

“ _You asked for this._ ”

Jack stared soundlessly, heart pounding in his chest. He'd never done this with a man before, and though he hadn't asked, he was pretty sure Gabriel hadn't either. Had he? He seemed to good at it, for being new. Perhaps that would be a discussion for a later time. The man's hands are like vices, powerful and dominant. Weapons in their own right, Jack trembles beneath them as Gabriel tightens the one around his throat, eyes locking and never leaving, seeming fascinated by the way Jack strains to breath just a little, not enough to do any actual harm or leave a mark. The other hand now latches onto Jack's thigh as he positions himself. Jack can't look away. In the darkness of the room, in this sensual moment, in this role of complete power, Gabriel Reyes seems like a King above him, completely at ease, completely in his element. A God.

“ _This is going to hurt._ ” The dark man warns, smoothing lubricant over his length and letting the bottle roll away onto the floor. Within seconds, he can feel the tip of that cock brush against his opening, trembling unsurely.

“ _I can take it, Gabe. I'm a Soldier._ ” The blond rebukes quickly, making Gabriel smile.

Then, before Jack can properly react, it's happened. Gabriel leans over him and rocks his hips forward, driving his thick length into the man just barely. It's enough to knock in the tip, causing Jack to tense up and latch his hands onto the sofa. Then, it gets rougher. As slick as it is, it's almost easy for Gabriel to shove himself in... Almost. Jack is still tight, untrained, and groans loudly at the sudden intrusion. It hurts, but in the most blissful sort of way. Gabe isn't sure which it is that holds Jack's tongue: Pride, or Desire. With the next moment, the next movement, nothing is held back. Gabriel leans forward letting himself slide in as far as Jack's body will let him go. He's hilted within the blond, flesh against flesh, his heart doing hurdles in his chest. The sensation is more intense than he expected, and he can feel the trembling heat that surrounds him. Hot breath shudders out of Gabriel and he devolves even further, caving into this need he's been fantasizing about for months. Fingers tighten on Jack's throat one last time before releasing, sweeping up to his hair and taking a firm hold in it. Thick hips begin to rock forward and draw out, letting the other get a full feel of his size as he picks up speed. Jack holds his breath, stammering to breathe every time he's filled, managing to murmur a few veiled curses under his breath, trying to keep quiet for whatever neighbors might be sleeping down the hall. Gabriel doesn't care about that now, as his sole focus is upon getting, upon having what he's wanted, taking what he needs from this man who obviously starves for this... Starves for him. As much as Gabriel begins to let go, threads of caution still hold onto him, reading Jack for any signs of actual pain or injury, any indication that he might not want this, or that he needs to stop.

No such indications come, and soon, they're both panting, breathing into each other as they kiss, sweat dotting across their shoulders with their intense exertion. Gabriel bites down on Jack's bottom lip enough to make it swell for a little while. Sapphire eyes remain fixated on the way Gabe's body moves so fluidly in this intimate way, gentle, but predatory. Deadly in the right circumstances, but not here, or now. Admirable, really. The rocking motion, the way his muscles flex and undulate against him, forcing him, using him, but considerate all the same somehow.

Maybe a little too cautious.

“ _H-Harder... Please...”_ Jack begs, and chestnut eyes meet his, seeming to question him, but no question actually leaves the man's smirking lips. Instead, he gently guides Jack's head to one of the couch's pillows, guiding his lips towards it. He leans forward and whispers into the blond's ear.

“ _Bite down._ ”

It's the only warning he's going to get.

Gabriel then abandons his precautions, throwing his rules right out the window, grabbing Jack's thighs, first one and then the other, and hoisting them over his shoulders so that he can really dig into him at the best angle, striking against that delightful nerve that had Jack begging minutes prior. Now, Jack all but starts to scream, and heeds the advise given to him. His teeth clamp firmly onto the pillow and his brows tighten. The sound is muffled, but only barely. The Captain slams into him again, and then again, exhaling hot breath into the air around him, his left hand keeping Jack pinned down while the right has clasped itself around his thigh, keeping it pressed tight to Gabe's chest. Hips piston feverishly, skin against skin, the sound of it obvious. Gabe's head falls back somewhat as he pants, but ultimately, those golden-brown eyes fasten firmly back onto Jack, consuming him both mentally and physically. Jack's legs begin to twitch and flex, indicating how close he's getting already to that blissful peak...

But Gabriel doesn't let him have it. Smirking down at the Soldier, he lets up, slowing just enough to let Jack back away from that edge, so to speak.

“ _G-Gabe, what are you doing?”_ The blond rasps, all but shaking.

“ _Making it last, Morrison... Making you last until I'm done with you.”_

The words alone force a bead of precum to the tip of Jack's cock, which jerks with neglect. The way Gabriel _uses_ him like a toy drives the Soldier crazy. He loves it. He _needs_ to feel vulnerable like this, especially when so much of his life has forced him to be in control, to make all of the decisions. Now, it's a relief to just let go, and have someone else take the reins forcibly from him and make him do as they pleased. Gabriel was doing exactly that, but not without giving Jack the choice to submit. Jack had come to this willingly, and had wanted it non-stop since the first time Gabriel had pinned him down.

Then, the break is over, and Gabe begins once more to slam powerfully back into him, reawakening Jack's prostate with a fire. The hand on his thigh then hastily abandons its place, and instead wraps around the cock trapped between them. It's all Jack can do to stop himself from screaming as his teeth bare down into the pillow again. Eyes shut tightly, willing away the tears of sheer pressure and pleasure that work their way through his tense frame. Meanwhile, the beast over him moans, grunts, and even occasionally _growls_ with sheer lust and thrill. Gabriel can feel every twitch, every tremble of Jack's body beneath him, completely surrendered to him. He's intoxicated by the feel of it, not only physically, but the sense of _power_ it gives him to be in this position.

 

That feeling undoes him. Before Gabriel can properly process it, it seems that Jack has beaten him in the race towards ecstasy. He bites down hard on the pillow, his arm clutching it so tightly to his chest that every muscle stands on end and the pillow bends almost in half. His whole body shakes and shudders, quivers in Gabriel's hold, muffled curses escape the blond, along with a few tears of pure force. Gabe's eyes sweep down over the man to his hand, where a familiar warmth has spilled onto him, and he smirks faintly. It's all the go ahead he needs to finish himself, and with jack climaxing as hard as he is, it's easy. It takes no more than a few more seconds, a minute at most, before Gabriel crumples down over the other, panting, exhaling hot breath along his neck and kissing neat his ear. He's left himself inside, effectively seeding Jack, claiming him in a way that no one else had dared to do before, or even come remotely close to doing. Was it wrong, Gabriel wondered? Should he have pulled out?

 

But the answer is in Jack's eyes, which stare right at him.

 

No. This was exactly what he wanted.

What they wanted.

And it felt right.

 

Gabriel doesn't want this feeling to end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! Sorry this is a few hours later than usual, i've been trying to get caught up on my art commissions.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!


	26. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Disturbing scenes, suicide themes

Gunfire rains like hail over a squadron of bastions. It's clear by the sheer number of them that the Omnics have been quick to cover their losses. The sky is clouded with debris and darkness which chokes out the soldiers and makes vision next to impossible. It's a new tactic the Omnics are using, a sort of biological, but simple weapon to affect the living in ways that won't impact them. An over abundance of smoke and burning air pollutes the battlefield.

Oklahoma City. No one ever imagined it would go this far, but here they were. It was the next stop after SEP managed to barely contain the devastation between Illinois and Ohio, not long before. But, that containment had cost them much. The SEP was beginning to dwindle, team by team, as serious injuries claimed more and more lives.

But it meant that those who remained were even tougher than before. As the Omnics learned the SEP, the SEP learned them. So much so, that the once-hailed godlike Tritelum Units were seeing even less use. Their guns turned too slowly and their mechanics were not stable enough, as damaging one leg proved to be hugely handicapping for them.

This was not the case with the bastion units, which could roll, transform, shoot in a seconds notice with fairly solid accuracy. Some models even had built in light shields to protect them from incoming damage, while others had enhanced repair modules that made it difficult just to destroy them. Moreover, the Bastion units almost all looked exactly the same, so it was next to impossible to know which ones they were going up against.

Gabriel, caked in dust and blood, rocks and jolts with the weight of the pulse rifle firing in his arms. His heels dig into the dirt, holding him steady. His eyes feel like they're on fire, stinging with the poison in the air mingling with the sweat that runs down his forehead. Jack is at his back, much the same, overcome with rage. Their teams are all around them, doing much the same, some nicked with injuries, others limping, but too full of adrenaline to stop. One bastion unit falls, and then another, and their rubble forms a slowly growing mountain over which other bastions tread with relative ease.

They're pinned in. The evac isn't due for another ten minutes, since the one sent to get them was shot down, and now provides a gleaming red torchlight in the background of this hideous battleground. A scream goes up, and one of their own falls. Right now, Gabe can't stop to see who. A roar rips out of one of his teammates. Merrick is laying on the floor nearby, and like the rest of them, the animal has been awakened within his partner, Eddie, who charges forward, firing a set of pulse rockets directly into the offending bastion. Gabriel tries to ignore the black soot that seems to collect on his form from no where. It's debris, he tells himself. Dust, discharge from the weapons, just another part of the polluted sky they're struggling not to breathe in.

Eddie's attack strikes gold, as it were, blowing the bastion to pieces, along with the two nearby. It's an opening the teams needed.

“LET'S GO. EVERYONE THROUGH THE BREACH, NOW!” Gabriel screams over the fire, and his team follows on his heels. DeLina is at Gabriel's side in seconds. No, it's true that she wasn't his partner. No one could replace Jack or Katie on that front, but she knows well her purpose here. Jack makes the same call to his team, and they charge through with him. Ammo is running low, and two of the Soldiers go down, tripping over the dilapidated piles of metal where a line of bastions once sat turreted. This proves to be a fatal problem, as a third Soldier brakes in his tracks and wheels back to aid the two who struggle to regain their footing. They cough and hack, tearing up as the choking black sky threatens to undo them. Jack turns back to try to aid them.

Seconds later, the bodies explode in front of him, showering him in their blood as a Bastion unit has just started letting off its lethal cannon fire... Right onto the tripped up Soldiers. There's almost nothing identifiable of them now, and Jack's mouth hangs slack-jawed as he's thrown into the dirt from the impact nearby. Shaking, he struggles to get up, until Gabriel is suddenly there, snatching him up by his arm and hauling him to his feet before darting off again.

“ _The evac unit is close, come on! We can't stay here, Morrison!_ ”

They bolt through the traffic-congested streets, cars like headstones of the people who couldn't get out in time. This graveyard of vehicles is a tomb, a testament to the failing human systems that governed these people right into their deaths. There was no evacuation from this. Not in time, anyway... A fault that some politician would likely be removed for, but nothing could bring back the hundreds of lives scattered around them. Chestnut eyes land on the bodies trapped inside, or beneath them, as he charges on, heading towards the cover of a building on its side. They would scale it to reach the evac ship. For now, Gabriel doesn't notice the pain in his leg, or the way he limps when he runs.

DeLina proves herself as she overtakes the other soldiers. It's clear that her agility and sheer power is what has gotten her through what killed the other teams she's been in, and Gabriel is glad to have her nearby, even if he barely knows her. But, his eyes turn back. He needs to see Jack- where is he?

The blond comes into view suddenly, rushing through the gap between two cars, his rifle strapped to his back as he helps one of the soldiers along. Blood oozes from the other's side: Gabriel realizes as the two get closer that it's Merrick, and Eddie's laying down suppressing fire at their rear, keeping the advancing bastions at bay.

“M-Morrison!” Merrick pants. “Leave me! I'm done for!” He screams, clutching his side.

“It ain't your time, Soldier. Eddie needs you. Come on, we're almost there-” Jack rasps back quickly. Gabriel suddenly sweeps in, slipping his shoulder under Merrick's.

“Eddie! Let's go!” he roars back at the crazed soldier, who responds at once. Chestnut eyes land back on Jack, who looks... distraught. “Don't hero for us, Jack. Your team needs you just as much-” Gabe starts as they rush towards the shadow of the overturned building.

Jack says nothing. He can't, as his throat is choked up with what he saw moments prior. Though Gabe can make a guess, there's so much around them to leave traumatizing images in their heads that it could have been anything.

They finally reach the building, relief seeming to wash over them. It's on its side, but broken windows provide an easy way in, and stairs, while not quite stable or level, provide a ground upon which the bastions can't follow. It's an obstacle that will save their lives. Delina heads in, and others begin to follow them. Gabriel's counting his team as he holds up Merrick, who clutches his side. Soon, Eddie arrives, and takes the injured soldier from him. Jack's team starts leaping through the opening, their boots crunching on broken glass on the ground beneath them, hastily following Gabe's team up through the building. As they do, another abrupt, soul-crushing scream goes up. It's too high pitched and over far too soon to be anything human. Jack twists back, shouting a rasped 'no'... But it's too late. Something else was on its way. Jack freezes, and Gabriel grabs his arm.

“COME ON. We have to go!” Gabe screams. He now tugs the stunned blond along, almost dragging or carrying him up some flights as they struggle to keep up with the others. Debris and bent rebar become friends as they search for handholds and footholds on their way up.

The Omnics are quicker to react than they expected, and soon, Jack and Gabriel are evading return fire from somewhere below them. Bullets pummel into the concrete and metal around them. Gabe gets a glimpse of their pursuers as they race upwards. As he glances back, he sees bright green eyes, forearms donned with spikes to help them climb through the wreckage, and they're closing space between them rapidly. Despite how humanoid these units look, they're faster, and better equipped for this... But there's only two.

Still. Two can be deadly.

“Jack. _Jack._ ” Gabe tries to warn as one gains on him, and Jack wheels just in time to bring his rifle around and fire three rounds into its chassis. Though it isn't down, it makes a sound like a scream as it loses its footing and suddenly slips. Claw-like hands scrape and clutch, trying to find traction on something, anything, but failing to do so. The omnic falls, and suddenly careens towards the floor. When it lands, the force of gravity destroys it. Its green eyes turn off like a ruined piece of weaponry. The other seems to watch the fall, and when it looks back at them, eyes shift from its natural green to a brilliant red. It's an oddly organic response that Jack didn't anticipate. Gabriel has seen it too, and their eyes meet briefly with unspoken question.

A loud whirring is pure relief to their ears, pausing all three of them in the broken set of walls and stairs like a hallway. A few stories up, the evac ship has arrived, and their soldiers are loading. Now, all they had to do was get up there. The two soldiers charge forward, but the second, enraged omnic resumes its vengeful attack, now on their heels, tearing after them like a rabid animal. Shots fire after them, along with a howl of what seems to mimic pure fury. It claws at Jack as soon as it reaches him, causing him to fall backwards with a yell. Gabriel stops on a dime and turns back. His rifle is abandoned, too dangerous to use in such close quarters, and too low on ammo to be effective. Blood appears on Jack's neck and face as the omnic starts to claw into him, and he screams. Launching himself forward, Gabriel uses raw strength to tear the omnic off of him, and throws it a short distance away. Jack, coughing, barely manages to respond to the incoming hails from the evac ship.

“Copy! We're here, alive! An omnic has-”

_**Bang!** _

As the omnic recovers from the throw, it launches itself at them again, but Gabriel has produced something else. Another weapon. Two in fact. Not a pulse rifle, but something he had picked up from an ammo depot on their way to this deployment- a pair of hand-held shotguns. They have enough force in them to throw the omnic backwards at point blank range. It cracks into the wall, its chassis breaking.

Jack and Gabe stare on as the omnic meets their gaze. It seems to choke as it dies, eyes locking between both of them.

When it speaks, both of them are taken aback.

“ _H-h-uman... Plague. C-c-c-c Cancer of the Earth. Y-you will all die.”_

Another loud shot ricochets through the area as Gabriel pulls the trigger, and suddenly, nothing remains of the omnic's head. Jack is stunned by what they've just witnessed and what has happened.

“The omnic is dead.” Gabriel calls over his comm device. “We're on our way up.” He looks down to Jack and reaches down his hand, dusty and black. Jack takes it without question, and is hauled to his feet.

They make quick work of the last few stories, and find the evac unit taking shelter on the side of the building, hiding from the surely still-advancing bastions. They load in quickly, and immediately begin being treated by medics. Merrick is on a hospital bed in the front of the cabin, biting down on something as an emergency surgeon removes shards of metal from his ribcage. Eddie is nearby, quiet.

Gabriel does a headcount. DeLina, Eddie, Merrick, Val and Ryan. His team is all here. Quiet has settled on the cabin as everyone tries to catch their breath.

 

Beside him, Jack is quiet, eyes glossy, darting through the vacant seats.

 

Their numbers are less than what they were when they deployed, and Gabriel remembers what happened, now that he has a second to reflect on the battle. Three of Jack's men are gone, and their blood is bathed on his front.

Their eyes meet. Jack looks personally defeated... Weakened, as if part of him has died with them. His lips tremble as he tries to speak.

“ _I- I failed them, Gabriel... I.”_ Tears form in Jack's eyes.

Gabriel reaches over at once, putting his hand on Jack's shoulder, head shaking.

“There was nothing-” He starts, but Jack lashes out, shrugging Gabriel off of him.

“STOP! Don't say that. Like hell I couldn't- I could've turned around, should've..”

“Jack...”

“No! You- _Stop Reyes._ ” The newer Captain snaps as he shoves himself up and moves away, sitting on the opposite side of the cabin from Gabriel for now, leaning over and burying his face in his hands. Gabe stares on, feeling immediately colder and depressed. How could he possibly explain to Jack that this was just part of the war? How could he harden Jack to these incredibly painful blows, or make him fully understand the immense weight of the danger they're in? There was nothing Jack could have done to save those lives and stay alive himself... It could have been any one of them, and it _would_ have been Merrick, and probably Eddie, if Jack hadn't gone back to help him.

Eventually, a medic comes over to Gabriel and begins to work on his leg, which has been shot clear through, luckily missing any vital arteries. His ribcage is grazed, but it's nothing a few stitches wont fix. This time, it doesn't seem like the smokey-black charcoal that's been growing on his skin is going to be doing him any favors. Gabriel thinks that maybe it was just a one-time event.

 

This part of the memory is familiar to Gabriel, sitting upright in their room on the bed sometime later as he tries to comfort Jack, unsuccessfully. He's seen this before. It was Jack's first mission, his first real loss. By all accounts, Gabriel and his team shouldn't have even been there. The drop ship of bastions was unexpected, but he wasn't going to leave Jack and his team to die, so he had, perhaps unwisely, taken his team to help bail them out of that hell. Now, Jack had only two other men left, besides himself. Ultimately, he bore the weight of that failing on himself, despite that Gabriel had so much faith in him.

Jack's words that night echo in Gabriel's mind.

“ _It's just. I don't know. I hate this. I hate that I have to choose who lives and dies. I hate that I couldn't save them._ ”

“ _You can't always be the hero, Jackie._ ”

 

Moments later, the quiet promise exchanged between them.

 

“ _Reyes... We'll make it through this. Right? Promise me._ ”

“ _...That's an impossible promise, Jackie… But I can promise you that I'll be there 'til I can't._ ”

“ _You and me?_ ”

“ _You and me._ ”

  
  


It was a promise that Gabriel never intended to break. The memory shifts and seems to grow warm somehow. It's new, and gentle.

Gabriel wakes up in his SEP bunk to Jack still curled around him, lips pressed to his neck. The darker Captain rolls over, looking up at Jack with a small, faint smile.

“ _Hey, Sunshine._ ” he greets sweetly, and their lips meet.

The kiss is welcome, and for the first time, Gabriel realizes he isn't in pain anymore. He looks down at himself, chest exposed, bandages still on, and sits up. Still, no pain. Jack stares at him questioningly.

“What is it?” The blond asks. “You hurt? I can go get one of the medics...”

“No... No it's...”

Gabe feels a hand down over his ribs, and then down onto the bandaged thigh. There's nothing there beneath the gauze. No pain, nothing.

“I'm just going to take a shower, okay? Go and get breakfast.” Gabe says gently, leaning back in and pressing a deep kiss onto Jack's lips. The blond smiles and nods.

“Coffee?”

“I'd _kill_ for coffee.” Gabe replies as he moves to stand. He waits until Jack leaves before making his way across the room to the bathroom. As he suspects, when he removes the cloth from around his frame, there's nothing there. Small scars, but nothing else. Not even the soot-like dust from before. It's a mystery he still can't explain, but he wont complain about it.

Later, after breakfast, he slips away to the medbay.

 

“Interesting.” The medic says. She smiles as she looks up at him. “Seems to me that the serum has had... An increased affect on you, Gabriel. You should be happy! Still. Don't get overconfident. A bad injury could likely still kill you.” She says. She's one of the medics who has been tending to him from the beginning, a gentle voice with a practical mindset. As always, Gabriel feels like he's under inspection when she's nearby. Her dark hair, dark eyes and deep-tanned middle-eastern skin are a familiarity to him at this point, and he's relieved by her secrecy on his... Particular condition. Eyes land on her lab coat, and the name tag there. “Ilyana?” He asks as she finishes writing down notes in her infinitely large notebook.

“Yes, Reyes?” She asks, though it doesn't go over her head that this is the first time he's spoken her name, or noticed it, for that matter.

“The others... Are they like this? Is this possible for them?” He asks, wondering if eventually Jack will be semi-immortal as Gabriel now feels.

“Oh. No. No I'm afraid not. The chemicals don't affect everyone the same way, Captain Reyes... In truth, we don't know for sure how anyone will react to them until something happens. As far as we know, someone might even have something _better_ than you. We'll see.” She says with a smile.

 

Unfortunately, they didn't, and wouldn't. That was the last time Gabriel ever saw Ilyana.

 

It's lunch that same day when Gabriel and Jack are sitting in the mess hall, and the blue-eyed stud is far away in his mind, stare distant.

Gabriel stares at him with a mouth full of food, eventually reaching forward to pat his cheek with a light slap, bringing him back to the present. “No time for daydreams, Jackie. What are you thinking about?” he asks, shoveling in another fork of lunch.

Jack's attention snaps back to him.

“I'm thinking about how we got out of there, Gabe. Those two climbers that came after us... They were...”

“Advanced.”

“No. I mean... Yeah, but that's not what I mean. They were similar, Gabe, but not the same. Not the exact same models. They looked like different models with similar upgrades. Like... Recruits or something. The way they moved, the way they attacked...”

“Like animals.”

“No, Gabe. Like _humans._ ” Jack presses, head tilting some as he leans forward some, ignoring his lunch as he lowers his voice. “The second one, the one that almost got me... It didn't start acting like that until the other one with it died. Then, when it did, it went into a rage... Then as you killed it, it _spoke._ It _spoke,_ Gabe. They haven't spoken before. Not like this.”

“The omnics are smart, Jack. Well programmed machines. Have you forgotten what Walcott told us? They learn by attacking us... And look at us, Jackie. We operate in pairs. We die for each other, go back for each other. We go into a rage when the other dies or is injured. Look at what's happened between you and me, and Eddie and Merrick?”

“It spoke like it wanted us dead, Gabe.”

“It doesn't _want_ anything, Jack. That's what I'm trying to tell you. They're bots. Tin cans with shiny labels and coding. Nothing more. They programmed them to do all that. Behave like that in a direct response to us and to how we are. They do that to bring them on par with us. What it said at the end?” Gabriel shrugs. “Programmed fear tactic. They want us to think they're like us. They want us to pretend there's something there beyond their careful programming. You know why? Because humans are unpredictable. That's what makes us deadly. Programming can't do that. Programming will always have a flaw, Jack. It'll always have some kind of loophole, some kind of weak link.” He pauses, stuffing in the last of his food and shoving the tray away. He cants his head before washing lunch down with a drink. He continues. “However... Humans have something the omnics don't: Fear. Omnics aren't programmed with fear, even their self preservation is limited, Jack. Because they can just be remade. Humans... We can't. We're all we've got. Fear rules us. It is our biggest weakness, and they will take advantage of it if they can.”

“Are you saying we should be fearless, Gabe?”

“No. No, of course not. Fear keeps us alive, Jack. Fear is a tool. Just... Most people don't know how to use it.”

“Do you?” Jack counters.

Gabriel looks down and he shrugs. He remembers all the times he got scared during the fight. He remembers what he was scared of losing: Jack, and then the war, and then Rosa. It was a bleak outlook no matter how he boiled it down. If he lost Jack, most likely, he would lose that entire team, and then his own, along with his morale to keep going. If somehow he survived it, he'd still lose the war, as one man wasn't enough to do it alone, and if they lost the war... Rosa, along with everyone else he'd ever known who was still alive would also then die, along with anyone else they'd ever loved.

It was terrifying.

“I don't know, Jack. I try to use it as it seems most beneficial to me... But sometimes it gets the better of us all, I guess. The most I try to do is not to panic.”

Jack nods then. He seems satisfied with that answer... But in his mind, he can't help but wonder if everything that Gabe believes is true.

 

Inwardly, Gabe wonders too, if very vaguely...

Are omnics actually sentient, or is it just a clever AI?

 

~

 

Gabriel knows now, as he wakes from another revealing memory, that omnics, are in fact sentient... But even now, he struggles with it. A few things had happened over the years to make it more or less obvious. Omnics were being given rights, but even now, there was something akin to a race war going on in more than a few countries over them. Many, like Gabriel, struggled with the validity of their sentience. How sentient could they truly be, if they were run by a program? Yet... When he had killed them, as Reaper, he still healed from them, at least somewhat.

Before, when he wasn't sure if he was consuming souls or not, it had been a lot more confusing. Now, it was obvious. Many omnics had technology in them that was advanced. Advanced enough that Gabe's own nanites could benefit from them, effectively healing him. It all made sense now, but whether or not that proved they were sentient? He was still skeptical. Regardless, he was forced to exist among them and work with them, and the omnics that had destroyed his life had been wiped out years ago. Could he truly hold the same hatred against these omnics as he held for those? He had gotten his revenge on them, a truth that he was now seeing in his dreams.

 

Along with other, far sweeter memories.

Jack.

A small smile worked its way onto his features as he laid face up in his bed.

 

That was when he heard thunder.

Thunder? What? Here? In the Dolomites, underground?

No... It couldn't be. Bewildered, the man slipped his legs over the side of the bed and moved to stand. The floor was cold on his feet, and the air conditioning of the room blew cold air across his bare back in a way that made him shudder. Something didn't seem right. The holo-screen was on nearby, but it didn't move. Even the clock displayed on it... The time didn't change. Gabriel was perplexed. Slowly, he moved away from it, tapping a clock on the wall in the living area just beyond his bedroom. It didn't move, tick, or anything.

Thunder rumbled in the distance again.

Slowly, Gabriel stepped to the door of his quarters and rested his hand on the console to open it.

 

When the door opened, there was nothing there. Nothing, but a cloud of red waste, no floor, and the sudden, horrifically loud cacophony of explosions. The world beyond the door fell into a sky of raw hell, or what he imagined must be it. It was a crimson abyss with no end to its drop, and the sheer scale of it terrified him beyond words. Light erupted in his eyes and he staggered backwards away from the door, collapsing onto the ground and clawing backwards against the arm of his couch. He screamed, and pain flooded through his system through his eyes. Red filled them. Red, burning and painful. The familiar taste of blood fled across his tongue, and Gabriel raced away from the door, across the couch and onto the floor on the other side

_“I'm sorry, Gabriel.”_

 

It was a voice... Faint, and barely audible. A whisper that would make the blood freeze in Gabriel's veins. Everything seemed to stop, even the breath in his chest as his eyes, widened and afraid, darted around the room, looking for the source, but finding nothing.

The voice came again, easier now to hear in the momentary quiet.

She sobbed.

“ _I'm so... I'm so sorry. I... I should have been there. I should have gone with you. You did this for me. For him. For mom. I'm so sorry. Gabe...”_ These were memories that Gabriel did not have. Not until just now. There was something about this, something sickening and wrong. Something wicked.

“ _You did this for us. You saved so many people and now... I... I don't care what they say, Gabe. I know you. I know you didn't do this. It isn't you. I love you. Thank you, brother.”_

Rosa had never sounded this heartbroken in his entire life. She was always so smart and cheery, so hopeful, playful, and though he had seen her grow up, in his mind she was always his little sister. The one he was doing this for.

“N-No. Rosa...” He stammered, tears flying down his cheeks suddenly.

Then, there was a crack at the door, a horrendous sound as the floor broke open. A giant black crevice formed in it's surface, and it began to spiderweb its way towards him, and Gabriel's eyes widened even further. Maddened and taken aback, he watched as the floor began to fall away. It was coming towards him. Reacting instinctively, he fled backwards, scaling across the dining table with ease, slamming into his mini-bar and causing a number of bottles to fall and shatter around him. “No-NO!” He screamed. All at once, he was a ghost, a black cloud of nothingness with two burning red eyes, tearing away from the cracks in the floor that sought to reach for him. More furniture broke in his wake as he moved, eventually backed into a corner, and suddenly, he couldn't move. Something was dragging him down like lead weights, despite that he was a cloud. He struggled just to keep himself like this. Bit by bit, he was becoming more solid, and the more solid he became, the further he fell. When his rear reached the floor, it cracked loudly and fell out from beneath him. Screaming again as if hit by a live wire, Gabriel began to tumble, sinking into the dissipating floor.

“ _I'm so sorry, Gabriel. Say hi to Henry for me. Tell him I love him, and miss him._ ”

The red abyss consumed him. He was falling into a pit of sorts, the red slowly becoming black, and all around him, he saw black hands, ethereal with deadly claws. They searched him out and reached for him, and one by one, they latched onto his throat and began to tighten. Breathing was a struggle, and his eyes teared up, sobs choking out of him. He spoke words involuntarily.

 

_“I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”_

 

Another three hands latched onto him. Explosions erupted in the air around him, throwing him further down, and down, until he suddenly landed with a painful shock.

He was laying on a pile of corpses. Husks of people, their health stolen from them. Multiple faces he recognized. Henrique, with his missing lower half, their mother, with a strangling hand still latched around her throat... One of his shadowed hands. One of the many that strangled him, and had strangled others. All of the people he killed laid out beneath him in a carpet of decay and death.

“ _I'm so... so sorry._ ” Gabriel choked out, sobbing as he struggled to get away from the strangling hands, to no avail.

Pollution spilled out of him, out of every pore, until he was nothing more than a ghostly figure laying limply atop the pile.

“ _I'm so sorry Rosa. I failed you._ ”

 

The sound of thunder grew more faint, and slowly, the hands around him seemed to soften.

 

What felt like hours later, he stirred. He could breathe, but it was difficult, and when his eyes finally opened, he was in someone's arms, curled up on the floor in the corner of his room. A room that was... More or less destroyed.

The arms around him proved themselves to belong to Jesse, who was passed out on his shoulder, despite that he was quite obviously cradling the Reaper.

Reaper, he realized. He was in his full tactical gear, boots and all, though his mask had been removed and set nearby, close to the cowboy's hat. Everything hurt. Gabriel groaned, and Jesse immediately woke, his head jerking up and he stammered something incoherent. Gabriel's eyes slid his way, and Jesse offered him a small, sad sort of smile.

“Hey boss... How you... Uh... Feelin'?”

Gabe lifted his eyes to the room again. There were claw-marks everywhere, the show of a struggle. His door was mildly broken. couch ruined, as was his holo-screen and minibar. But Jesse was there, his arms around him, and even now, as Gabe stirred from the nightmare, if that's even what it was, Jesse didn't let go of him. Additionally, Gabe spotted a few things nearby on one of the end tables that had avoided disaster: A set of pills, three glasses of water, a few medical supplies, and a discarded red hoodie. Besides that all that, a familiar jacket in one of the opposite corners of the room. On the back of it, emblazoned in red and blue: 76.

Gabriel realized his body was shaking, and he felt... cold. When he tried to move, Jesse released him, but only barely.

“Y'alright?” The gunslinger asks, and Gabriel shakes his head, bringing a hand up to try and push Jesse's hand away, As he does, a shard of glass catches his eyes on the floor below, reflecting his own face back at him. He's gone completely pale, black and red eyes... Starved. He tries to get up. “Hey now... Slow down, Reyes.”

“I need to get up.” Gabriel rasps, his eyes searching the room more.

“A-Alright, but slowly, okay? You're... Ah... You're not well, boss. You need to rest. Angela's setting something up for you right now-”

“Jack's here?” The shade interrupts as he slowly, shakily stands.

Jesse seems slightly taken aback, but he helps Gabe up all the same. “He was... Came when he heard screamin'.”

“Screaming...” Gabe echoes, trying to let things sink in. His eyes land on Jay's red hoodie nearby, saying nothing as the unspoken question reflects in his eyes.

“She went to get somethin' to eat... You been... Sort of out of it for a few hours.”

“What happened?” The shade finally asks, realizing that it wasn't simply a nightmare. Jesse, seeing that Gabe is more or less settled now that he stands, tentatively releases his shoulder.

“Some kind of episode we figure... Took both me and Jack to get you calmed down... We were afraid you might've torn up the entire place if we didn't stop you.”

Gabriel's eyes finally slip back towards Jesse. “You and him...” His mind is fuzzy, and he struggles to fully comprehend what's being said to him. Before long, he moves, materializing his mask into his hand and he comes to sit on the broken couch nearby. He leans forward, setting the mask on his thigh and bringing his hands up to cradle his head, which throbs painfully.

“I was here first... Jack, not too long after.” Which had to mean that Jack's room wasn't all that far away, a detail Gabe would remember later, when it was important. “Mercy stuck you with somethin'. Sedative, I think. It seemed to bring you down... She suspects a backfire in the medication. Maybe uh... Post-traumatic episode.”

“It's never happened before...” Gabriel rumbles.

“... Well no. Maybe not now, not currently... But you didn't remember it all as Reaper... You might not remember it, Reyes... But you had these episodes before. Not quite like this... A long while back, a short while after Blackwatch started getting going. Right after you recruited me. Then you started getting help for it. Seemed to work... Figure you got more demons now, though...” The cowboy trailed off, and slowly came to sit beside Gabriel, who struggles with his emotions even now. He feels tears slip past his eyes and his metal claws tuck into his head somewhat. He realizes that the words he heard... Rosa's voice. The things she had said... She must have said them at his funeral, over his casket. Somehow, he remembered. His body, his nanites remembered. Hearing her like that breaks him into so many pieces that he struggles not to collapse into a heap again right there on the equally broken sofa.

Jesse seems to sense this, and places his arm lightly around Gabe's shoulders.

“Hey... Boss?”

“ _Don't call me that._ ” Reaper rumbles back. Shame is heavy in his voice, raw and unfiltered.

“...Reyes... Look.” The cowboy's voice is soft. “You don't gotta say anything, but I just want to tell you somethin'.” he pauses briefly before sagging somewhat. “We... We all done things we ain't proud of, even when we're good. Even when we're happy, healthy. We all done terrible things, Gabe. And yeah... So have you... But you've done a hell of a lot of good things, too. You've saved hundreds... of thousands of people, Gabe. You've been the hero so many people needed, even if they maybe weren't aware of it. You ain't got _anything_ to be sorry for. None of this is your fault... None of them. Not those people, not your brother... Not your mother. Everythin' you did, you did for them, to honor their memory. To keep the rest of us safe... And you did that, Gabe. You did it for as long as you could. You did it until there was none of you left.”

Behind his palms, Gabriel Reyes is vulnerable and weak. He's starting to really see the totality of what he's done, as Reaper, and how thoroughly everything he wanted to be has been corrupted. And by who? How? It's a mystery he still can't work out. A puzzle with a dozen missing pieces. The blackness he feels lost in isn't just the emotional break he suffers, but the overwhelming guilt he carries for what he feels he must have done. Tears roll down either cheek, and he shakes his head finally, and he looks over at Jesse.

“I heard her, Jesse. I heard the words Rosa said... At my funeral. I heard how much it hurt her. I could _feel_ her let go of me, one more loss in her life... Knowing what I must have done. Who I became. Would she be prouder now?” He sounds incredulous as he stands, looking down at Jesse, mask in his hand. “Look at me, Jesse... Look at what I've become. No. No. She wouldn't be prouder now...

 

I am a monster now... And I should have stayed dead.”

Outside the room, eavesdropping quietly through a crack in the door, Jay's finally can't hold back her tears, and she breaks down.

“Don't you fuckin' say that.” Jesse barks as Gabriel starts to turn away towards the bedroom. “Don't you fuckin' walk away from me now-” Jesse growls, brows furrowing as he gets to his feet, offended. “We need you here god damn-”

“That's enough, Jesse.” A far more stern voice interrupts as the door comes open. Jay's nowhere to be scene now, but Jack's holding a small tray with four drinks. Jesse turns away and storms out, snatching his hat and reeling away, needing to vent off somewhere else. Hearing Gabe tear himself down feels like a brick wall to him. This leaves Jack alone with Gabriel if only for a little while.

Jack follows into the bedroom where Gabriel undresses from his tactical gear, too weak to wraith out of them as usual, too distraught to care about any would-be nudity. The Soldier announces himself by setting down a drink with a thud on the end table beside Gabe's bed.

“The kid will come around.” Jack says, and though he says 'kid,' Gabe knows that he means Jesse, despite that Jesse hasn't been a kid for years. Gabriel offers no reply as he strips away his tactical armor. The way he carries himself is so... Familiar. Jack watches in sadness, old emotions stirring through him. He sets the other drinks aside, and moves forward. Gabe sets aside his gauntlets, staring at his wicked, black claws, remembering the way they looked around so many throats in the vision in his head. He starts to remove his tank rop, the only thing left on his chest, when he feels a touch on his shoulder.

 

Hesitantly, Jack has reached out, and put a hand there, cold flesh pressing against his palm. Gabe glances down at the hand, but doesn't move. The Soldier sucks in a breath and shoves away his uncertainty and moves around in front of Gabriel. Then, all at once, he takes the man into an unexpected embrace.

Gabriel is tense, at first. He doesn't know what to say, or how to react. It feels strange, but... After a moment of consideration, it doesn't feel wrong. In fact, it feels... Familiar... Warm.

Right.

“It happens to me too, you know.” Jack says. “Not quite like this... But it happens. I understand. I see it too. The old battles... The people we lost. The things we did... All the mistakes we made. I wish I could say it goes away, Gabe... Or that it gets easier. It doesn't.” He pauses, still holding the man, eyes downcast on Gabe's pale, scar-riddled skin on the shoulder not covered by the black tank top still on his torso. “But this always made it better, somehow.” Jack adds. “Whatever this is. The people here. Your friends. Your family, Gabe. I wanted you to know that Rosa doesn't blame you for this. And she wont, when she knows the truth.”

Did Jack finally believe the truth? _Was it the truth?_

Gabriel takes a deep, shaky breath.

Then slowly, Gabriel reaches up to return the man's embrace.

“You're going to tell her the truth?” Gabriel rasps.

“Whenever you're ready. Not a day before.”

“You spoke to her..?”

“...After everything happened. When I went looking for you, after your body... Your grave. I thought you might go to her... But you didn't.”

Finally, Jack releases him, and Gabe lets go. Their eyes meet, black and red facing bright blue.

A small smile finds its way onto the Soldier's lips.

“I'll go find Jesse... See if I can talk some calm into him... You should talk to Jay. She might have heard the tail end of that...”

“Oh... Right.” Gabe offers, looking down, and Jack turns away to go.

“Thanks for the drinks, Jack...”

“It's not a pr-”

“Jack...” Gabe interrupts.

“Huh?”

“... Thanks for being here.”

 

“... Bout time I was.” The man replies before Gabe hears the door open and close behind him.

 

Gabriel changes into normal clothes, and as he finishes, Angela arrives. She explains that there had been a mild chemical reaction in the medication, something she hadn't expected before. She explains that they will need to lower the dosage as more of his memories return. Otherwise, he could end up going into over-long sessions like this, which could lead his brain to sessions of uncontrolled false-reality... In other words, dreams he couldn't wake up from.

 

It meant that he'd have to get his memories a little more slowly.

Additionally, she was going to find him a dose to help with his apparent Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Maybe the same dosage she was giving Jack, she says.

She's also setting up a rather hefty feeding session for him later that night.

 

Gabriel finds Jay an hour later in the training range. She's firing shot after shot into the test dummies. Her aim seems better now than when he first met her, not all that long ago.

“Hey.” He says as he approaches slowly behind her. The girl looks over her shoulder, seeming betrayed. Her words are harsh, hurt.

“Decide not to off yourself then, ey?” She asks, looking away, still angry. Gabriel, slightly stung but understanding, moves forward so that he stands beside her.

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“Don't lie, Reyes. I know exactly how you meant it.”

_Reyes. She never called him that._

_“No, Jay.”_ He tries to rebuke, but suddenly she puts down the weapon and wheels on him. He's half expecting her to take him down like she did that giant man she was fighting in Owellton the first time he'd ever seen her. But when no swing comes, he's staring down at her as she glares upward at him, angry hazel eyes fierce like raw pieces of crystal. It's clear that she's been crying.

“No. You listen. You think that you're some... Some mistake. You think that if you were gone, everything would be better, easier somehow. You think that you're the sad punchline at the end of a tragic story. You act like you're the bullet making the wound, but you're so blind.” She hisses her words, almost rehearsed, but her anger makes her spill words as fast as they come to her mind. “You look in the mirror and you see a monster. You dream and all you can focus on are all the bad things you've seen and done. You ignore so many things. Hate for what you've become because you might be part machine- just like the rest of us-” Did Jay have prosthetic parts? He didn't recall ever seeing any. “You think it'll make you some kind of omnic, and _god, that's just so bad, because all omnics are evil,_ and no human ever did some horrible thing in this world? For you, it's a curse, that you're this... That you're Reaper. That you can't die, it's some problem that you're ashamed of... But you're _so_ blind.” She repeats, taking an aggressive step forward that makes him back up, his shoulders touching the back wall of the range.

“That's what you see when you look at yourself. But you know what I see?” She lowers her voice, aware that she's getting too loud. “I see a man who abandoned his own dreams for the sake of avenging his family. I see a man who put all his own wants and desires aside so that he could settle the score. A man who could remind the Omnics who we fuckin' are. A man who could teach the human race what it means to be human. A man who could teach us all how not to take it for granted. A man who did whatever it took to make sure someone else got to live an okay life. Someone who, when the dirty work had to get done, wasn't afraid of getting filthy. A man who so completely believes the words spread about him, that he can barely trust his own thoughts, his own feelings on what, or who he is. I see a man who did a lot of bad things to fix the world. A man who risked everything to find a path to peace. I see a man who lost his way, but who is strong enough and smart enough to try finding his way back. And here you are, Gabi. Back where you belong. Overwatch. Back to doing what you need to be doing. Back to getting things right. Back to undoing the pain. I see a man who proves that even devils can find their halos. I see a man with an incredible gift to avoid death, and tools he can use to help save people's lives... A man with so much guilt that he's utterly, completely crippled beneath the weight of it.”

Finally, the redhead pauses, and she turns away, picking up her pistols and sliding them back into their holsters on either hip. Looking down, she resets the shooting settings for the next person.

“It ain't a curse, Gabi. It's a gift. It's a tool that only you have... If you die, you're nothing but another casualty caused by Talon... Just like my folks.”

“W-What?” Gabe stammers with this sudden reveal.

“After Deadlock robbed them, and I went to try and get it back, after I started running... They were in Numbani... Years ago.”

“...Doomfist.” The man effortlessly concludes.

“Gnats in his way, ey? I guess, told myself that one day I'd make that gauntlet mine... And I'd be one of you guys. I'd be Blackwatch someday. You were the hero I lost... Now I'm finally here...”

“Jaelen...” Gabriel starts.

“You're so worried about what you are, Gabi. You fail to realize how much more you could be. You want to get rid of it or be gone... You're giving up so much. This is part of you now. This is a scar you wear on your soul. The Reaper is a testament of everythin' you've been through. Don't go and throw that away.”

She turned away then and began to walk away.

“Jay.” The shade called to her, and she stopped, finally looking back at him. It was the first time she'd seen him this hungry. His black and red eyes, black hands and claws, extra arms that he made no attempt to hide, his strange fangs- all of it. The Reaper spoke quietly to her. “I'm not going anywhere. I mean it. I'm sorry.”

Hazel eyes seemed to scrutinize him before she nodded, and finally turned away to go.

 

Later, in his room as workers replaced broken furniture and appliances, Jesse arrived with an apology. It was true that Jesse had seen some rough things, but nothing like what Jack and Gabe had seen, and indeed, few to none knew what Gabe was going through in these times. Jack had convinced the cowboy to give Gabriel some time, and to try and understand him.

 

“I'm here for you.” Jesse said. “But you gotta promise me you ain't going to go walk off any cliffs. You made me a promise that if you go, I go with you. I ain't walkin' myself into a grave for you, Gabe.”

Gabriel had dipped gently in understanding. “That wont happen.” he reassured. “I'm not leaving. _We're_ not.”

“Good. Look... I uh... I'm sorry I stormed out before. It's hard for me to think of any of that happenin'... Guessin' I'm goin' to have to play nurse, make sure you stay on your meds-”

“Don't worry about it, and that won't be necessary.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that now,” Jesse replied. “But you ain't convincin' me otherwise. Go on then. Angie says she's got a set up for you. I'll stay here and make sure they got it all back the way you want it.”

 

Gabriel was quiet as he made his way through the halls, and equally stoic when he finally arrived at the room where Angela was waiting for him. She had set out a number of corpses, all fresh. Easily five or six of them. More than enough to fully heal him. Offering him little more than a bow and a few words, she leaves, allowing him to feed in peace without being observed, for once.

 

That night, he takes no pills for his memory, but instead, something to help with his episodes, and something to help him sleep. He drifts off, finally able to get some peace from his pain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! This one is a few minutes early because I'm super tired and need sleep. I hope this chapter wasn't too touchy subjects for you guys!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you find any spelling errors or anything. ^^


	27. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Battle scenes that may be disturbing to some.

For the next few days, Gabriel avoids thinking about his past. He avoids taking any pills that might trigger memories, and does his best to keep himself focused on the here and now. Now, he had Jay and Jesse to look after, and to a lesser extent, it felt like Jack was looking after him, as was Angela, who made daily visits to see him, or asked for him to come see her. Even Sombra, who always had a could-care-less attitude, had brought him a coffee or two and insisted she stay to watch 'ancient' TV shows with him, and tried incessantly to put on something new. It's a sort of kindness he hadn't expected, especially from the hacker who he couldn't stand a couple months ago.

Everyone seemed to have some idea on how to help him. Even Ana had casually pointed out how working in the gardens seemed to have helped him before, back in Fiji. Gabriel had taken the hint and gone out there every day since.

The envirodomes weren't as bright as the ones in Fiji, but warm and comforting all the same. Without needing to ask for direction, he set to work on a patch of weeds in the back of one of the domes. He's dirty and starting to sweat when he hears footsteps. It's Katie, handing a cold drink down to him as her shadow overtakes him. “Looks like you're getting soft on me, Gabe.”

Gabriel glances up, his eyes squinting in the light.

“Hardly.” he rebukes, smiling faintly at her, then the drink. “That for me?”

“No, I'm holding it down here for my health.” She teases, then softening her jovial tone. “You doing alright?”

Gabriel moves to stand finally and removes his gloves, tossing them onto the grass besides him and accepting the drink with a faint shrug. A small sip later, he makes a telling discovery. It's coconut.

“You've been talking to Jay.” He muses after a sip.

“Seems like someone had to get under your skin. She's gotten good at it. A smart kid. Unorthodox, I guess... But then so are we.” She replied, moving away to stand beneath a tree, sipping her own drink. “I admit this isn't quite how I planned to see the world someday.” Gabriel follows, his head tilting.

“Are you complaining?” he asked as he approached to join her, sipping the sugary substance once more as his back pressed against the tree, one ankle crossing the other. Her eyes shift around the dome- its bright greenery, the grass, the company of people tending it and using it for leisure or workouts. It was a marvel of science, really.

“No. I suppose it could be worse. I could have seen it during the war, with you boys. And, how many people get to see the Dolomites from _inside_ the Dolomites?”

“Just Overwatch, I'd guess. You could always see the world when you're _old._ ” Gabriel muses. She laughs, gently crossing her arms and leaning beside him.

“Oh, yeah. Whenever that happens. Though I feel old already... Guess we all are... Anyway. How are things going?”

“You mean with the new meds?” Gabriel ventures, knowing well that she wasn't likely here just to visit. Or, at least not just to discuss world traveling and war.

“Yeah... I mean. Everyone's on something, aren't they? They don't all take to them the same.”

“Jack's on them too, I guess?” Gabriel asked, curious for some kind of clarification.

“For nightmares, yeah.” She explains. Gabriels feels sorry for the Soldier somehow, but he understands. Were they just as bad as his, he wondered? _Were they of Reaper, he wonders?_

“They seem to help.” Gabe confesses finally, breaking free of his pondering before the silence became too obvious. “I haven't dreamed anything all week long. It's nice in a way... Though...” His voice trails off, immediately regretting the thread of a thought that slipped out.

“... _Though_?” Katie asks as he pauses. The shade shrugs, sipping his drink.

“Nevermind. It's nothing.” he insists, but her face suggests she isn't satisfied.

“It's clearly not nothing, Gabe.” She laughs gently.

“Well!” he looks away, possibly blushing. Some of his memories were good... Too good. A memory of Jack flashes through his mind, the way the blond's lips looked wrapped around his - “I mean... Look. Don't worry about it. You don't want to know anyway.”

She laughs suddenly as she watched the man flounder. He was usually so composed, that only a few things could have flustered him so much. “Let me guess...-”

But he cuts her off, grinning.

“They weren't _all_ bad memories.”

“Yeah, _yeah_. I figured that's what you were on about... One of these days I'm going to pick your brain about that...”

“ _Oh jeeze._ ” Gabe groans, eyes sliding towards the entry to the dome as movement catches his eye. Genji has arrived, and he waves at the two as he notices them. Katie waves back, and Genji seems to take it as a sign to approach. Gabe doesn't mind, but he's beginning to get the sneaking suspicion that everyone's keeping an eye on him. The way everyone's been talking... Checking up on him like he's got a problem...

And maybe he _does._ Gabriel looks down as Genji stops in front of them, his eyes on the cyborg's shoes. _Shoes._ It still stuns Gabriel that Genji bothers to wear clothing, but then, he suppose the man does it for very real, very human reasons.

Probably the same reason Gabriel feels the need to wear a mask when he's starving.

He decides not to ask, and instead meets Genji's eyes as the man starts speaking.

“Miss Hall. It is good to see you again, and you, Gabriel. Angela had asked me if I would come and find you.”

“Find me? Am I in trouble?” The wraith rumbles, sipping on the drink, now half gone. Genji shakes his head and laughs.

“No. Certainly not. She just wanted to see how you were doing. You haven't been in your quarters all morning, and your trainee is alone in the training facility.”

“Jaelen is more than capable of doing reps without me- is that what they're calling her now? _My Trainee?_ ”

“It is a good sign that you have one. She seems to be making good improvement, and Overwatch needs as many new recruits as it can get. Soon, I am meant to go out of the country to see about a few more, if I can.”

“When is my next mission, Genji?” Gabriel asks abruptly; he doesn't seem to care where Genji is going, or when.

“Getting anxious, Reaper?”

“ _Something like that._ I'm bored, Genji. I have a _job_ to do.” Gabriel rumbles.

“We all have jobs to do, Reyes. Ana and Angela want to make sure that you're stable before they take you out again. She says that you should try one of the pills she is leaving for you tonight... But at your leisure... Moreover, if I may offer some advise?”

“...Go on?” Gabriel encourages, and Katie quietly listens in.

“Alright. You will not know this perhaps, but I spent a long while in the company of the monks of Nepal... My master taught me that great balance can be achieved through meditation... From what I have been told, your memories come to you spontaneously, usually during sleep... But what if you tried to provoke the memories instead?-”

“I've tried.” Gabe interrupts, but Genji raises a hand.

“No. Not like this. You have been on medication for a long while now. You have greater control over it than you realize. You believe that the medicine is showing you the memories... The truth of the matter is that those memories are already within you. You simply need to find them. Usually, you are distracted, but it is only when your mind is vacant that you find them. You can achieve the same thing through meditation.”

“I've never even- I wouldn't even know _how_ , Genji.” Gabe replies, sighing somewhat.

To this the Cyborg glances between the two and then back at Gabriel. “Every day, I learn something new from the people around me. Once, you commanded me. You and Ana, Jack and the others taught me so much. If you would like, I can show you, or at the least, try to help you find that place.”

It sounds hokey at first, and Gabriel starts to laugh, but Katie puts a hand on his arm. For the first time since he's arrived, he can see it in Katie's eyes... _Concern_. She didn't want to show it before, but it's there now. Whenever he had his episode, it had scared a lot of people. They wanted him better.

...And as hokey as it sounded, he wanted to feel better.

He wanted to stop thinking that the best solution to this was to simply not exist.

 

Thinking like that was a disease that he could not allow to grow.

 

His laughter dies in his throat, and he looks back at Genji and nods.

“Alright. When. Where?”

Genji smiles, somehow effortlessly done, despite his metal lower jaw.

 

“I'll send for you. Don't worry. Tonight, take one of your pills.”

Then, the cyborg offers them a brief farewell and is gone. Katie smiles after he's out of earshot.

 

“I'm proud of you, Chief.”

“I wouldn't get used to that feeling.” Gabe muses back to her.

“Right. Right. Well, I've gotta get back to work. Come see me sometime, yeah? You might like the labs more than you think.”

“Eh... We'll see.” He shrugs. Once more, she smiles and then turns to leave.

 

Gabriel resumes his gardening for the time being, before eventually wandering off to see about Jay, who's quite contentedly taking down targets on her own.

 

The last thing he expects is to be awoken in the middle of the night.

The comm goes off some hours into the early morning, and for a moment, Gabriel has flashbacks of SEP as he rolls over in bed, even going so far as to try reaching for the alarm that isn't there. His eyes peek open beneath a crowded mass of black covers, peering towards the holo-screen across from his bed that alerts him to a new visitor. A small camera illuminates the cyborg, who waits there, patiently, just outside the door, casually opening his personal holo and dialing in a number.

Seconds later, the phone in Gabriel's room goes off. It's significantly louder and far more annoying. Groaning, the shade simply ghosts out of the bed, over to the phone and latching onto it with one shadowed hand. He exhales heavily, exhausted, into it.

“ _What.”_

 _“_ Ah! Good morning, Reaper.” Genji offers almost cheerily, he even smiles at the camera over Gabriel's door, showing now on his front holo-screen. Gabriel says nothing. “I said I would find you.” Genji adds, obviously wide awake.

“ _It's two thirteen in the morning, Shimada.”_ Reyes isn't awake yet, clearly. Genji seems to understand this... He simply doesn't care. Gabriel knows without any doubt that Genji is far too sociable to _not_ know how... Inconvenient this is.

It's a test, Gabriel deduces.

Perhaps, if Reaper doesn't actually want help, he wouldn't come to the door, or answer his phone, or simply not go. Genji was here to see how dedicated Gabriel was to actually getting help.

Of course, Gabriel didn't have to ask. He knew now that he had to go, or else this might look all for naught. He growled and looked down as Genji said nothing, his hand tightening on the phone so much that it threatened to crack. Reluctantly, Gabriel hangs up the phone without destroying it and ghosts away to the door, pressing the devise to open it, letting Genji in. The ninja steps in and lets the door close behind him.

“ _Let me get dressed at least.”_ Gabriel replies finally, his voice raspy and ill-tempered even still. The cyborg seems not to notice, seeming to glance around Gabriel's quarters as the shade dressed himself in something more suitable than just a pair of boxers to sleep in. When he emerges, he's in typical jeans and hoodie, hair loosely combed back over his head. Genji wastes no time then, and leads Gabriel out and away without a word. Sleepily, the wraith follows after him, his combat boots a dull thud on the floor beneath him, echoed only by Genji's own footsteps, significantly lighter sounding by comparison... But then, that was to be expected. Gabriel was bigger than Genji, even now despite that Genji was so much metal.

Gabe might have even weighed more than the agile cyborg, he thought as they walked, not paying as much attention to where they were going as he probably should have been. Before long, the two had left the familiar areas of the base, and the Shimada had lead him through significantly darker corridors that grew narrow on the sides and lit only with dim yellow lights. Ultimately, they arrived at a set of stairs that lead up to an elevator. A few pushes of buttons on the side pannel astride the elevator, and it opened, and Genji allowed Gabriel in first.

“Were are we going?” Gabriel asked finally.

“Always so eager to find an answer... Wait and see, Reyes. You won't be disappointed... At least I hope not.” The man laughed somewhat then, a thing that Gabe didn't follow.

“And if I am?” he asked.

“If you are, then you're more heartless than I expected, and will require considerably more healing. Trust me, I know about healing.” The man then grinned, and Gabriel couldn't help the small smirk that slipped onto his lips.

The elevator closed and locked behind them, and then began to ascend. It took longer than he expected, but when the elevator doors opened again, Gabriel was indeed not disappointed. In fact, he was taken aback.

They stood on a secluded peak of the Dolomites, tucked carefully away from any kind of prying eyes, and carefully placed tech kept the door to the elevator concealed, so that no one even knew it was there. While the peaks that rose up all around them on each side were made of brown and grey stone, they lingered in a patch that seemed to have somehow managed grass. It was little more than a patchy, soft area the size of an old fashioned diner, but it was beyond any doubt, the clearest, closest seat to the sky. Everything was quiet. There were no lights here, no sounds. Nothing but the sound of their feet on the plush grass, the occasional whistle of a breeze across sharp Dolomite peaks.

Once more, Gabriel found himself reminded of Jack for reasons he couldn't explain. Chestnut eyes were cast skyward, searching, exploring. It was beautiful, and for the moment, it was easy to forget who he was, what he was, and all the wrong he'd done. In this place, he felt so small in the grand scheme of things... So insignificant. Here he was now, allowed to see the world and the sky as it was without the touch of man, without the horrors of war to scar it over. It was no surprise to him why Genji might bring him here to meditate. Genji's eyes land on Gabriel and he smiles.

“Not a bad view, is it?” he asks. Wordlessly, Gabriel shakes his head.

“Not bad at all.”

“Worth waking up early?”

“... I wouldn't go that far-” Gabriel cuts himself off, but the Cyborg laughs all the same.

“Very well. Let's begin.”

 

Genji has clearly taught other people to do this before, obviously mentored by his master. It's a thing that comes like second nature to the cyborg now, but he's never tried to help anyone as cynical nor as damaged as Gabriel is. The struggle to find a sense of peace, or to even quiet the thoughts in his own mind becomes a difficulty he couldn't have anticipated. Meditation doesn't come to Gabriel. Each time, guilt and worry cloud his mind, images of horrors years old haunt him relentlessly.

 

Three nights pass like this. Each night, Genji returns to Gabriel's room, until the fourth night, when Genji does not show up at all. Gabriel lingers in his room, awake, for near half an hour before leaving his room. He follows the path he's learned over the last few days, figuring that even if Genji isn't there, maybe he can try. Hell, for all he knows, Genji not being there might help him.

When he arrives, he finds that the area is not vacant, but Genji is already deep in his own meditation, somewhat distanced. Chestnut eyes slide towards him, then shift away towards the opposite side of the grassy valley made by the dolomite peaks. The stars tonight are as bright as before, and a cricket chirps somewhere nearby, the only disturbance to the silence. The wraith decides he doesn't want to disturb Genji, so he strides slowly towards the opposite side and puts his back to a small rounded boulder. His legs cross and his eyes close. He does as the man has instructed every night before.

_Put yourself somewhere else. Take yourself away from this place, the troubles of now. Allow your mind to drift to a place that is quiet and still. Focus on your breathing. Push everything away. Your past. Your future. Everything. Ignore the troubles of yesterday for now, and postpone tomorrow. Think of nothing else but the current moment. Yourself. Your one being-_

This was where Gabriel usually faltered. Was he one being, or was he many? What was he, even, and what had he come from? What would he be? The words others spoke of him drifted around in his head, confusing him and plaguing him. Who does he _want_ to be?

 

 _Stop,_ whispers a voice in his mind. Gabriel takes a deep breath and stills his body once more. He tries again, and three times more, before finally his mind latches onto something.

~

 

“ _Stop, Gabe._

“No. I'm going down there now-”

“Gabriel.” Jack urges, his brows knitting. “You knew- we _knew_ this would happen. It was just a matter of time... Look...” Jack latches his hand onto Gabriel's shoulder as the other Captain threatens to walk out.

“Walcott said this would happen if we caused a problem... But we haven't-”

“Gabriel!” Jack urges. “This _isn't_ a punishment! This is- we have no choice-” Jack's hand tightens on Gabe's shoulder, convincing him not to storm down to Walcott's office and raise the storm he wanted to. Jack had grown tougher in the last few weeks. He's gotten members of his team replaced, and worked them into prime fighting condition. The battles between then and now were small by comparison to what he'd lost three of his members to before. More and more, he had relied on Reyes less. No longer did the blonde need Gabriel there for guidance and reassurance.

And Walcott knew that.

Walcott was sending Jack's team to another location, hundreds of miles away from where Gabriel was going. Gabriel was... Irate. Jack had tried to break the news gently to him that evening in the middle of one of Gabriel's favorite shows, hoping it would soften the blow.

It didn't.

Now, the dark Captain was on his feet, almost yelling.

And yet, in the back of his mind, Gabriel knew that Jack was right. They couldn't just be sent to the same deployments every time. They were needed in different places, and Jack was no longer _new_ to leading, nor to strategy. In fact, he'd developed something of his own ideas on how things should be done... Ideas that didn't always match what Gabriel had in mind. But then, Gabriel wasn't the hero.

Jack was. And now, Gabriel's blonde, sweet sunshine was being sent away.

“New Mexico isn't just a skip away from New York, Jack.” Gabriel says, starting to feel defeated. Jack leans forward and pulls him into a tight embrace. He can sense that the other's feelings begin to take over him and cloud his judgment. A glossiness takes over Gabe's eyes.

“I know it isn't, but it's where I need to be. Remember what you promised me? That... That you needed me to help get through this, and that when it was all over, we'd see where this could go?”

“I remember.” Gabriel offers softly, his nose dipping and tucking into Jack's neck. He hates this. Guilt overwhelms him. _He_ put Jack's name up for Captain, and now, weeks later, the blonde was being sent away. _Away._

Tears come into Gabriel's eyes fully.

“ _I'm so sorry, Jack.”_ He whispers, and the Soldier holds him tighter. Everything feels reversed now. Gabriel had been the one with so much hope weeks ago, convincing Jack that they could make it through this, that SEP was the answer to this war. Gabriel had been the one with so much conviction and drive to defeat the Omnic forces and bring them to victory. Now... At the mention that Jack would have to leave with his team for who-knew how long, Gabriel seemed personally defeated... But Jack was the one now with hope, wide eyes and a determined attitude. The blonde sighed and guided Gabriel back to the sofa, then turned so that he could sit, hand slipping around Gabe's and pulling him forward. Gabriel seemed to take the offer, allowing the suggestion, eyes sliding down to Jack's open lap, and however reluctantly, he moved to straddle him, thighs slipping onto either side of Jack's hips. The blond smiled and tugged Gabe forward, arms sliding around his lower back.

“Don't worry about it, Gabe... Everything will work out. It'll be over before you realize it... And I'll be back.” he soothes. Gabriel sighs gently and nods, leaning forward so that their foreheads touch.

“ _I love you, Carino. You better come back to me._ ” Gabriel offers the faint words like a threat.

“ _Oh?_ ” Jack replies, smiling. “ _Or else you'll come after me?”_

“ _Wherever you are. And whoever put you there better pray that I don't find them on the way._ ”

Their eyes lock, and soon, their lips follow. As always, Jack's lips are warm and soft, gentle when pressed against Gabriel's own.

Then, Jack drops a hand to Gabe's thigh, and though it's a small gesture, it's suggestive, and Gabe doesn't let it slide. There's just enough pressure behind Jack's palm, enough _pressure_ between them as the blond's hips shift upwards just enough to remind Gabriel what's there. Slowly, Gabriel breaks the kiss and smirks faintly at Jack.

“ _What do you think you're doing?_ ”

“ _Oh, come on, Gabe. You can't expect me to bottom every time_.” Jack says almost pleadingly, smiling charmingly, though Gabe is mildly taken aback by the man's forwardness. That small smile is irresistible.

“I'm not sub-” Gabriel starts, blushing.

“ _Neither was I,_ until I met you.” The blond protests. Gabriel chuckles and looks away, eyes rolling somewhat.

“Oh Jack... Come on now...”

“You'd like it.”

“You _what-_ ”

“You'd _like it_ , Gabe.”

But Gabriel snorts- still blushing. He doesn't want to admit that the idea of not being in control for once is a guilty pleasure he rarely gave into, and absolutely never admitted. A confession was unlikely to ever reach his lips, but instead, he murmurs, “We'll see about that.”

Jack catches the implication and his smile widens.

“Oh, I'll hold you to that...”

“ _I imagine you will._ ”

They kissed again, and again after that, ultimately retreating to the bedroom for more intimacy, if brief. Jack was meant to ship out the following morning, hours before Gabriel was even suppose to wake up. In the dark, they gave in to each other and shed a few more tears, and a few more laughs.

Neither bothered to sleep.

“ _I'll sleep on the ship.”_ Jack insisted as they lay there together.

 

When the time came, Jack put his hand up to Gabriel's lips as the man tried to speak.

“ _Don't. Don't say goodbye, Gabe. Say you'll see me soon... Because you will.”_

 

_“...I'll see you soon, Jack... I love you.”_

 

_“I love you, too.”_

 

Gabriel felt like he was breaking apart.

 

~

 

When he emerged from his memory, he was still on top of the mountain, but Genji was nearby, keeping an eye on him. They shared a smile and a few sparse words over the success. Gabriel began to return to the mountain every night, each time gaining a little more of his memories, more controlled, and constantly under the watchful eye of Genji. During the day, he trained with Jay, and was occasionally joined by Jesse and Jack, the occasional visit by Katie. These visits were tame by comparison to the memories he regained.

 

~

 

Jack's been gone three weeks now, and Gabriel has become deeply entrenched with his team in New York. After the attacks in the midwest, the Omnics spider-webbed away in as many directions as they could, focusing on large cities. Gabriel doesn't know if Jack's alive or not, but he can't dwell on it now. He has more scars now than he did before, but the SEP serum pumping through him does a good job of keeping him alive, even if it still isn't quite public _how_ it's keeping him alive. His team offers no complaints, and thus far, no more signs of the 'monster' Val saw reveal themselves. Gabriel begins to think that she may have imagined the whole thing in a state of panic. He could believe that, if he didn't occasionally dust black debris off of his injuries like chimney soot.

Another team is lost, and then another, but so far, Gabriel's team remains intact. The SEP program begins to dwindle, if battle by battle, but for every Soldier lost, dozens, even hundreds of omnics are taken down. They have more numbers, but the SEP have become the modern-day Spartans of the world. They and their service have become a public knowledge to the media, especially once their victories started being covered by media. Now and then, Walcott can be seen on screens giving speeches and press releases, but as usual, he keeps the individual soldiers private, and their families safe.

During this time, Gabriel manages a call to Rosa. It's short, just long enough for him to tell her he loves her, misses her, and that he's still alive. He tells her to get away from the big cities and move somewhere rural, for the time being. She agrees, and just as quickly, Gabriel is thrown back into the battlefield.

Each night, his mind is consumed with fear, with worry, and loneliness. Jack must be feeling the same, if he was still alive. _He is. I know he is._ Gabe almost chants the words to himself to try and help him sleep. But, fighting left very little room for brooding, and though the odds were bleak, Gabriel throws himself into the fray all the same. Rosa needs him to win this war if she wants to live. Wherever she is, he's doing this for her. Weeks begin to feel like months, and each day lingers on, like a summer day in a desert. Only now does Gabriel begin to realize how much he misses Jack, and how hard this was going to be.

New York is cleaned up over another week. Soldiers die, and even more omnics are put down. Tritelum units are more or less put out of commission, as the Soldiers have become too fast and too equipped to be able to handle them. It's easy now to take them out in a hit or two in the right place, with the right weapon. Gabriel, though he was a good shot regardless what weapon he had with him, held onto the shotguns from before. They're lighter than a pulse rifle, and easier for him to wield, given how fast he's become. They pack enough of a punch to put down most omnics in three shots or so, and that suits him just fine. Of course, SEP requires he keep the pulse rifle, and he does, but it's rare that he draws it out except when he doesn't have time to reload. When the skies clear over New York, only a few buildings are down, and the United States military is able to clean up the remains before it's off to Los Angeles.

 _Home_. Gabriel never wanted to be deployed here. When Gabriel got the news, he almost broke down again, but so many weeks without a break, without a touch... They'd barely even been back to the SEP base, that's actual location was kept classified, even to them. They all only knew vaguely that it was in the north west somewhere based on how long it took them to fly to locations. Some Soldiers guessed that they were in Oregon when they were at the SEP base. Others suggested the Dakota's or Washington. Gabriel didn't care where the SEP was based, or where the Omnics were attacking, so long as Rosa wasn't anywhere nearby. Los Angeles had been mostly evacuated, luckily, and looked much like a ghost town. Most of the battlefield was underground, taking place in the Metro systems and stations around the city, as well as the airport.

It's sunset when his team offloads near Santa Barbara, some distance from Los Angeles, but not too close, as it was safer here. As their shuttle lands, the back gate opens, and Gabriel's standing in the middle of the cabin, his hand latched onto an overhead handle that keeps him steady. Dust fans in all directions out around the ship, and his Soldiers come to their feet. The red lights of the ship gleam off of their skin, damp with sweat and raw from use. They all have new scars, new small injuries, hardened faces and attitudes.

As the back gate opens, Gabriel realizes that they are joined in Los Angeles by another team.

 

A flash of golden hair catches his eyes, along with a familiar frame, pulse rifle on his back, tough voice.

Gabriel's heart does hurdles in his chest. No one had told them that they were being joined, moreover, that _this_ team was even still alive. Jack's back is to him, but Gabriel strides off the ship before the gate even finishes lowering. Jack turns to see who's joined them, just in time to be captured in Gabriel's arms, tight and strong. Completely, entirely disregarding protocol and rules, Gabriel leans in and kisses Jack.

A few small hollers go up from their respective teams, who at this point are more than aware of their forbidden relationship, and seeing the two partners reunited warms more than a few hearts. Jack utters a sudden, surprised sob of joy, tears coming to his eyes as he kisses Gabriel back, holding him tightly close as though he might never let go.

There were no words between them. There were none that could be said that could accurately describe how they felt. Gabriel shed no tears this time. He had already spent so many between the last time he saw Jack and now that it felt pointless to him to let more slip by. When their kiss broke, Gabriel searched his eyes and smoothed a thumb over his cheek, brushing away one of the blond's tears.

“ _I thought- I... I was scared that-”_

“ _Don't be cliché, Jackie. I'm here now. That's all that matters._ ” Gabriel soothed, smiling towards the man and pressing their foreheads together.

“Come on Ladies.” A rarely heard voice echoes from behind Gabriel. It's DeLina, and she's smiling. Gabriel chuckles, and wonders inwardly why Walcott didn't promote her to Captain, instead of forcing Gabriel to pick someone from his own team. The two break apart slowly, and Jack chuckles, wiping his eyes.

“Should have figured you'd be sent here. Is it... Is she-?”

“Not here, Jack. I told her to evacuate some while ago. She did, with the others.”

“Good. Anyway. I'm told we have a brief to attend to.”

Jack smiles.

 

The next night, the memory continues. Gabriel's getting better at controlling his own thoughts, and the way the memories come, though it's still with some difficulty to him. Meditation doesn't come easily to anyone, especially not those as new to it as Gabriel is... But it's better now than it was. Seeing benefit, he returns to the peak each night to prod more into his mind.

 

Another battle. Another day. Los Angeles is a city of abandoned buildings and cars. There's no dust, nor smoke. Not yet. Above ground, one might not know anything bad was happening in the world. The sky is cloudless and bright, and hawks fly among the skyscrapers looking for a meal. The teams know better. Everyone's on the defensive, rifles raised, visors down. It's a new addition to their equipment that the SEP has provided. It's a sort of aiming device, but with a time limit. Helmets latch over their head and drop a glass in front of their eyes. Most of the time, it's just clear, but when hostiles draw near, it highlights them, making it easier for the Soldiers to land their shots effectively. A predecessor to the helmet that Jack would eventually become so well known for.

The fight waits for them underground. Twelve soldiers make their way there, and Jack hasn't left Gabe's side since they reunited. The blonde had traded stories with him about what has happened between when they last saw each other, and now. It turns out that Jack's stories are just as grizzly as Gabe's own. New Mexico was just as deadly as New York, with more losses. Luckily, none of Jack's men, but others. There were only a few teams of the SEP left, but the Omnics were losing their advantage. Two manufactories had been discovered and destroyed, seriously crippling the omnic's ability to rebuild themselves. Moreover, some of the omnics had seemed to have gone rogue from their organization. A small faction of renegades, some of them outcasts or deserters from the cause, taking shelter or hiding in the underground, in abandoned homes or shops. Some, they argued, were in fact sentient, and rejected their initial purpose, and refused to take part in the war.

Gabriel insisted that it was just another ruse, another attack of the Omnic's behalf, an attempt to get into the hearts and minds of humans... Maybe some kind of programmed self preservation. Either way, Gabriel didn't like it.

A highway seems an unlikely place to start, but history from decades prior reminds Gabriel that the Metro started above ground, running down the middle of the two sides of the freeways with overpasses that lead to them. Then, over the years, even those were dropped below ground to make more room for streets on the surface. Finally, a set of stairways reveals itself, leading downward. Jack ultimately leads his team in first, and Gabriel follows.

The tracks are quiet, so much so that their boots echo dully off the stone walls. Electricity has been all but shut off in the city, with nothing but emergency power running. There's a dim red light about every half mile down the tracks, but lights in their visors highlight what the atmosphere doesn't. Some of them breathe hard; it's clear that fear is doing a number on some of them.

An hour in, Jack breathes hard into the open air, but he whispers.

“ _Where are they, Gabe?_ ”

“They should be here... Keep your eyes and ears sharp, Team.”

They've all seen too many old movies to know what's suppose to happen now. They twist and shift, looking around themselves. They stand in an abandoned train station, large and cavernous overhead, pocked with white, flickering lights. A few minutes pass, and the ambush they expect never comes.

It's then that they hear it. It's distant, but it's an obvious sound. Gunfire. Their eyes switch between each other before pinning on the source. The tracks. The sound of it has ricocheted down the subways to where they are.

“Someone's fighting.” Jack offers obviously.

“Move out.” Gabe growls, brows knitting. “Keep your guns up, and walk _quietly._ ” he insists.

“ _Copy_.” Echo his team and slowly they do so.

The sounds get louder as they approach, but so far nothing reveals itself. It's clear that there's some kind of battle going on. Bastion fire, as well as something else. Orange light suddenly erupts into the tunnel in front of them with the heat of an explosion. Everyone ducks out of raw habit, the dust of the tracks lifting up in a haze around them as a rush of heat reaches their faces and rushes past. Whoever was fighting up ahead... It wasn't them. It wasn't SEP.

Then, the sound of footsteps reaches their ears. It's racing towards them, the sound of crushing gravel beneath weight. Jack moves to his feet and raises his weapon, as does Gabriel.

“Civilians.” Gabe replies.

“No.” Jack breathes silently.

In the tunnel before them, someone appears, or rather... Some thing.

An omnic. Bright blue eyes, a missing arm, peels away from whatever attack is going on some ways behind it. It staggers to a stop as soon as it sees the group of soldiers standing there. It emits a noise similar to a gasp as widens its arms.

“S-Stop... Humans... I-”

Gabriel raises his rifle, but Jack reaches out, putting his hand on top of it.

“ _Wait._ ” He seems to order, and Gabriel's eyes snap towards the blond, enraged.

“Y-You must not be here.” Replies the omnic. “Humans. You must run. Run now.” It insists as its broken arm sparks. It then moves forward, slowly, hands raised. The teams stand at the ready, but no one opens fire. Hesitantly, it skirts past them, then, as soon as it's reached the other side of their group, breaks into a dead run heading further down the tracks.

“ _A deserter._ ” Someone else in the team gasps.

“It's true.” DeLina chokes out, surprised.

“ _Are they sentient?”_ Eddie asks.

“It's a diversion.” Gabriel hisses. “An attack. Stay on your guard.”

“Reyes, if it's an attack, why would it tell us to run?” Jack interrupts. “We should go.”

Chestnut eyes fasten on blue, and brows knit even further.

“I'm not abandoning the fight.” Gabriel snarls venomously.

“We're not _in_ the fight yet. We should let them war it out themselves.”

“We need to at _least_ see them fighting, Jack. Maybe then you'll see it's all fake... We can see what we're fighting against.”

“If we go, we risk dying ourselves, or being ambushed.” Jack rebukes.

“And if we stay, if we do nothing, we're useless. We're here to do a job.”

This time, Jack says nothing. It's very clear that the two captains have very different ideas of what the should do.

“Your team can cover our rear. I'll go ahead with mine.” Gabriel compromises, and Jack's head tilts at him, quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is rough.

“Twenty-four. You're in charge until my return.” He barks an order to one of his own members.

“Jack-” Gabe starts.

“ _No. I'm coming with you. I'm not letting us get separated again._ ”

Gabriel offers no argument, and instead tilts his head towards the tunnel. They rush forward, if quietly. The sounds of battle up ahead continue. They hear screeching now, and an omnic language none of them can decipher.

When another station opens into the tunnel before them, what they see stuns them. Omnic loyalists on their left face off against a group of omnic rebels, who are pinned down behind a barricade of rubble, across the station on the right. Fire hails between them. Rockets land on the barricade, throwing open three more rebels and causing them to shrink back against the concrete wall. It's a fight between the machines, and the media is confirmed. Gabriel's brows knit as he struggles to comprehend what he sees. Could it be a mal-function, if not an elaborate ruse to kill them?

 

Then, his time to try figuring it out is ended.

One of the loyalists spots them, and barks an alarm to the others. Omnic rebels seem just as shocked by the arrival of the SEP, and all at once, they scatter, fleeing from their holds to the opposite side of the station. Four of them are shredded at once by a turreted bastion. All at once, the SEP soldiers are beset with fire. A cry goes up over the house from the omnics.

“ _Eradicate the humans!_ ”

“OPEN FIRE!” Gabriel shouts, and all at once, they're in battle. The remains of the rebels are either killed or flee, and no one bothers to go after them. The two teams are fighting for their lives now, as omnic loyalists rush towards them. They back up, trying to force the omnics into the natural bottleneck made by the tunnel. It works, at first, until their plan is realized. Then, bastions move and start to set up in the center of the tracks. Gabe's eyes widen as he realizes what's happening. “Back up!” he screams. “Get to cover! NOW! Back to the other station!” In the tunnel, there's no hallways, no ledges, nothing that might help them. In seconds, they'll all be pulverized.

They sprint as quickly as they can backwards. Two of their team manage to throw grenades back towards the aiming bastions, which delays the fire and covers them for a few seconds. Before they can make it, however, something loud breaks the ceiling up ahead, and it starts to rumble.

“ _It's collapsing._ ” Jack warns and suddenly, they're all forced to a halt as the ceiling drops in. Light from the outside floods in, blinding them for a brief moment. Dust clouds the tunnel and their lungs, causing them to choke. Eyes search the opening to the outside, looking for a savior- a drop ship, another team, _anything._

What they see almost causes them to lose hope entirely.

Five bastions and a collection of humanoid omnics drop through the hole, guns aimed forward at the SEP soldiers. Gabriel looks slowly to his left, where Jack stands, open mouthed. The blond looks his way. His eyes seem regretful and apologetic. Reyes slides his pulse rifle back and draws the two shotguns instead. They suddenly open fire, team's backs to one another, covering both their rear and their front. They're surrounded, trapped in the tunnel, in the near-dark, choked out by debris, destined to die. They fight harder. Another set of grenades go off, and Gabriel screams for evac into his comm, but its difficult to get any messages out. If anyone's coming, they haven't said so.

One of their members goes down, but no one can stop to see who, yet. Everyone fights for their life, and the lives of those beside them. Gabriel can feel his heartbeat in his chest, pulsing in his ears. Images of him as a child, playing with friends, or watching movies with Henrique and Rosa flash through his mind. He sees his mother, the night he danced with her. He sees his father, smiling at her. Gabriel sees his grandfather, playing on that old guitar painted like a caveira skull. He sees his mother's casket, and then, himself on the first day of SEP. Then, Jack's flawless face. His eyes, bright with wonder, blue glorious. He sees Katie, the last night before she vanished from SEP. Jack, the night they first told each other how much they cared.

And now they were here, backs to one another, weapons raised, eyes furious, roaring with determination as they fired. Sweat covers their brows and dirt clings to their flesh. Their bodies hurt so much from so much battle that they've become used to it, the pain is little more than a reminder that they're still alive.

 

Then.

Light.

 

Four spikes like harpoons jut into the ceiling overhead, and then jerk upwards and away. The sky above the SEP soldiers floods over them in great beams of sunlight. The omnics around them are just as stunned. Explosions tear into the ground on either side of them, decimating the omnics pinning them down and throwing them into chaos. Three ladders roll down from above, landing into the midst of the soldiers.

Gabriel can feel tears of relief flood into his eyes. Evac has arrived.

“EVERYONE OUT!” he hears Jack shout. They start scaling up the ladder as quickly as they can. The second everyone's on the ladders, the ship ascends and carries them out. Gabriel can hear something. Amidst the cries of joy and relief, there's something else.

It's Val.

She's sobbing.

Gabriel takes a quick glance among the other three ladders, then recalls something as he looks down into the pit.

Someone had gone down.

Ryan didn't make it out.

 

~

 

For Gabriel, who's just now remembering it, the pain is real, and it stirs him out of his meditation. He leaves the mountain disappointed and upset. Gabriel stops in the cafe, struggling with his emotions. His body aches like it was there. Like it remembers every injury from those wars. Chestnut eyes land on his hands, callused and dark. Ryan died. Val... Gabriel struggles to comprehend what she must have been through. He thought he had lost Jack, but then the blond had survived...

Someone else has arrived in the cafe, and without warning, sat at the table with Gabriel. His eyes lift and finds blue eyes staring back at him.

“Rough night?” Jack asks, leaning forward, setting his own drink on the short, round table.

“... Something like that.” Gabriel replies, reaching up with a hand to groom his fingers back through his hair. Jack smiles.

“These sessions with Genji seem to be helping... He doing voodoo on you or something?”

“... Meditation.” Reyes replies with a small smirk. “You've been watching?”

“Watching and good observation aren't the same thing, Gabe.” Jack replies, smiling faintly.

“So you observed... How?” Gabe asks, but Jack chuckles, offering no reply. Slowly, the wraith puts the pieces together. Leaning back in his seat, he props his feet up on the other seat. “Your room is nearby to mine... Somewhere. You watched Genji show up and followed us, didn't you?”

Jack laughs again, and looks down, but doesn't reply.

“Still don't trust me, _Jackie_?” Gabriel asks. The old nickname makes Jack looks up, and almost blush.

“You said yourself that you know every move I make, before I make it. Always have, always will... You should have expected me to keep an eye on you... But not for the reason you think... I trust you, Gabe. But.. I'm worried about you. A lot of people are.”

“Don't get sappy on me, Jack.”

“I mean it, Gabe. If meditation is helping, I'm glad. I want you to feel better... But I also have to make sure you're safe. If you're on that mountain when another episode hits-”

“How many episodes have you had on Angela's meds, Jack?”

The soldier straightens up his pose somewhat.

“You know about that?”

“How many episodes, Jack?”

“...None.”

“Then I'll be fine.” Gabe says, sipping his drink and folding one of his arms across his chest. “Thanks, though... For keeping an eye out.”

“Yeah... When I got here, you seemed shaken up.” Jack points out casually.

“... Not all my memories are great ones.”

“Which one was it tonight?” Jack pries gently, his voice lowering. Gabe's eyes turn down and he empties his cup with a final gulp, then pushes the mug away.

“Ryan,” the man replies quietly. He sighs. Jack murmurs a small sound of understanding before he utters a reply.

“That... That was a rough battle. But we made it through, Gabriel.”

“Never did like reading the end of a book first, Jack...”

“We survived, though.”

“Hardly a happy ending.” Gabe reminds. Jack chuckles somewhat and leans forward.

“ _You think the story has ended, Gabe?_ ” His eyes are promising, and it makes Gabe smile just a hint. Though the question isn't specific, they both know what's being implied here. Their relationship was a story they'd both considered over. Now, Jack seems to imply that maybe it isn't. Gabriel is at once interested and intrigued.

“ _Are you telling me it hasn't?_ ”

Jack laughs softly- he's definitely blushing now. He moves to stand, too embarrassed to say more. Gabriel stands too, holding his empty drink.

“Running away, Jackie?” Gabe presses.

“Going to _bed_ , Gabriel.” Jack says almost formally. “I think you should probably do the same. It'll be dawn soon.” The Soldier seems to want to backtrack, too nervous to continue any flirtation. Gabriel smirks as he watches the man retreat, depositing his own empty drink on the cafe counter as he walks away. Gabriel follows eventually, but gives the man plenty of time to get away, for now.

Maybe Jack's right, though. If the meditation helps, he should keep doing it, even if it hurts to watch it all unfold... Gabriel needs to know the mysteries of his life. He needs to know what happened to him, and how he got here...

 

Maybe then he could figure out how to get Jack back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I appreciate you all so much. Thanks for all your comments and support!


	28. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Mild gore.

After his brief interaction with the old soldier, Gabriel's confidence is renewed. Jack was right. They'd made it through that hell... And Gabriel was convinced now that he could make it through this new hell as well. Reaper, the terrorist, was behind him. He was still something different. Something other than human, but... He was also Gabriel Reyes, a man saved from the fate worse than death. Others had faith in him now, and so, maybe he should have some himself. Maybe in time, they could come to rely on him again.

But first, meditation.

The sky tonight was clouded, not nearly as spectacular as the nights prior. Genji no longer went out with him, though occasionally he did find the man there, quiet, off in his own corner, distant and quiet. Gabriel did likewise, taking himself back to his usual spot by the boulder.

 

~

 

War. It consumes everything, and everyone in its path. It seems that soft memories have slipped away from Gabriel for now. When his meditation finally lets him explore clearly the deep, forgotten recesses of his mind, the memory is vivid and bright. Its another battle, but at least this one seems to be going in their favor. Los Angeles is cleaning up, if slowly. They're on the south side of the city now, and the bastions are dwindled down to one, chasing them with its tread, canon fire blooming after them in bright beams of orange and yellow. They duck from explosions, then turn to open fire again. The bastion loses the last of its strength with one more shot of rockets from Jack's guns, and collapses. Now that it's destroyed, the teams wheel on their heels, and start pumping round after round into the pursuing bi-pedal omnics. Now, they stand on even ground, no longer outnumbered, but evenly matched. Val, who was never given a new partner in light of the shrinking SEP members, fights now with more fire than Gabriel has ever witnessed firsthand. She fires relentlessly, taking step after step forward, as if each death she brings of the omnics is one small act of justice for Ryan. She roars, screams with each successful destruction. She seems to be on fire. Gabriel, inspired by her ambition, leads his team forward along side her. Omnics start to fall one by one, then in pairs. As the numbers drop, suddenly, they scatter. There's only four left, but there's twelve soldiers. “Split up!” Gabriel shouts. “Watch for ambushes! Stay on your comms!” Then, instinctively, jack and Gabriel peel away from the others, chasing down two who have fled through debris and wreckage to try and find shelter.

They find them cornered in a tall, somewhat broad lot where a building clearly used to stand. It was a broken parking lot now. There's high walls on both sides that the Soldiers can't easily scale, but it shouldn't be a problem for the omnics. At first, it isn't, until Gabriel takes careful aim with one of the preferred shotguns and releases one of them of its arm. The omnic falls to the ground as the other with it glares back to where it's landed.

Jack takes a shot, aimed to kill, but it scrambles back, causing it to lose a leg instead. The two omnics exchange glances. Though their language isn't human, the gestures exchanged between them are obvious. The one now missing two limbs screams and urges for the other to flee. The other, half way up the wall, roars something of a rebuke.

Gabriel takes the final shot, destroying the grounded omnic as Jack aims further up the wall. The remaining one does something then unexpected, leaping off of the wall and coming at them full on. Eyes switch hues from blue to red in a second, and by now, the two Soldiers know well the look of omnics becoming enraged. Jack and Gabriel both back up, scattering to either side, forcing the bot to come after one of them. It goes after Gabe, thrashing with its arms and launching bullets from a gun attached to its arm similar to a small turret. Gabriel deftly moves just in time for Jack to land a line of shots across its back. The omnic wheels, and in so doing, reveals a devastating injury. Jack has incidentally severed some kind of crucial tubing, the omnic equivalent of an artery, that now sprays green fluid all over the ground and onto the legs beneath it. It begins to go down, stare switching between the two soldiers before landing suddenly on the collapsed bot it had fled with.

A garbled voice echoes out of the dying omnic.

“ _R824._ ”

Then, it lifts its arm and takes abrupt, instantaneous aim at its own head, and releases a volley of shots, effectively killing itself. Jack and Gabriel stand in stunned silence. Gabe slides slowly down the wall, panting. Blood dots his torso where the omnic landed a few swings on him. Sagging slowly down the wall, he tries to catch his breath, watching as Jack lowers his weapon, then draws his stare over to the fallen omnic near the wall. Slowly, the blond approaches, nudging it with his boot before suddenly kicking it over.

“...Gabe.” He says, staring down at the broken chassis of the omnic. Reyes comes to his feet and walks over, calling into his radio.

“Teams. Report.”

“All hostiles defeated, Captain.” Val replies at once.

“Copy. Let's meet back at the drop site” Gabriel says as he looks down at what Jack's spotted. On the upper right chest of the omnic, its identification code: R824. Jack looks at him, then back at the other bot.

“It said it's name before killing itself.” Jack utters faintly. He's obviously shaken up. “Mimicking SEP, Gabe? I don't think any of us have done that.”

“Clever programming, Jack-”

“Reyes, what kind of programming instills self-destruction at will?”

“I- I don't know, Jack. Look, it doesn't matter right now. It's dead. We have to go.”

“They're _alive_ Gabriel.” Jack deduces finally, and it seems to set Gabriel on fire.

“ _SO WHAT, JACK?!_ Does it suddenly matter if they're alive or not? Do we care? We didn't have trouble killing normal humans before the SEP. Did anything change? No. These things destroyed our lives, and the lives of countless others. They deserve nothing less than obliteration. It doesn't matter if they have _feelings_ or not.” Gabriel snarls venomously. Then, he goes so far as to spit on one of the corpses as he storms away, heading back to the drop site. Jack says nothing and follows after.

Later, safely in the ship, Jack and Gabriel sit together, recovering.

Deserter omnics, omnics fighting among themselves, omnics looking for revenge, feeling sorrow, rage and determination. Omnics seeking asylum from the war... It was all so bizarre, so backwards. How was this even possible, Gabriel wondered? He could see the same question in Jack's eyes. They were both making up their own minds about what they'd seen.

“Do you feel guilty, Jack?” Gabriel asked after a while, when they'd been sitting in quiet. The blond shrugged.

“I don't know, Gabe. I don't know anything anymore... What about you? Do you feel guilty?”

Gabriel looks away with a sigh. “No more than usual, Jack. They're just another enemy. We've got a lot of them. I don't know if this is just a clever mechanical ruse or some kind of strategy... I just know that they're dying, and we're winning.”

“ _Are we, Gabe?_ We lose more Soldiers every day.”

“And they lose three times as many. If we can make it through this, we'll make it.” Gabe says, smiling faintly.

Jack returns his smile. “You're right. We'll make it.” he says, for now putting the matter behind them. It wasn't their job to find out if they were sentient or not anyway.

 

Their job was to fight.

 

~

 

The following days are better, though he takes a break from the pills, and the mediation sessions, at least for now. Moderation, he reminds himself. The pills aren't going anywhere, and he needed to have normal sleep hours at some point. Jay didn't seem to like the way he slept in so late as of recent, and he couldn't really blame her.

They talked about it while he was in the training room with her.

 

“ _This is HELL_ _Gabriel!”_ He could always tell she was aggravated with him when she used his full name.

“You know nothing about hell.”

“LIKE HELL I DON'T!” She barked, holding herself up even still, defiantly. She was in a push-up position, which might have been fine by itself, except that Gabriel was slowly setting weights along her spine. Not heavy ones, and not anything that would seriously damage her, but enough to make the push-ups significantly more difficult. Jaelen had worked a sweat onto her brow already, the front of her red tank top revealing it somewhat whenever the perspiration collected.

“You''ll survive.” he insisted.

“Bullshit!” The ginger girl hissed. “You never had to do this.”

Gabriel laugh and crouches next to her, his elbows propping up on his knees as hands prop up a bottle of water between them.

“No. You're right. I had to do it with three-hundred pounds, not sixty.”

“ _Jesus fuck, Gabi.”_

“Hey. You asked for this. You must have known it wasn't going to be easy.”

“I wanted _GUN_ training!”

“Winning a fight isn't just about being able to aim.”

Heavy footsteps echo into the room nearby, drawing closer to them, until finally a formidable shadow overcomes them, causing both of them to pause slightly as they look up. Blue, pink, and muscled. Those were the three words that filtered themselves into Gabriel's mind.

“She is weak for this yet. Give her to me. I break her within a week.”

 

Zarya.

 

Gabriel had not expected her to be here, nor was he even aware that she'd been brought to the base. His eyes widen with so many questions. Why was she here? Who had brought her, and, was she suppose to have seen him? Did she know who he was?

The look in her piercing eyes seemed to suggest that she knew very well who he was, and who he used to be. Gabe's mouth opens slightly with the wordless curiosities, but Jaelen interrupts anything he might have said.

“ _Don't do it._ ” She seems to beg the man. Undoubtedly, the girl does not want to go with the renowned Russian weightlifter and hero. He moves to stand, and Jay starts to move, only for him to nudge her with his shin.

“I didn't say to get up.” He reminds, but his tone seems to suggest that it's probably better that she stay out of this little greeting, as it were. Garbriel addresses the considerably taller, thicker fighter now in front of him. “I wasn't aware you were going to be joining us.”

“And _I_ wasn't aware that you were back from the dead, or that the Overwatch was in the habit of giving asylum to _terrorists._ ”

“Hey now.” Jay growls, finally shrugging off the weights and moving to stand. Gabriel shushes her with a hand slightly, or tries. “You don't know the first thing about-” The girl snaps before someone else steps in.

“Zarya is here to help.” A rough voice, as usual. Jack seems to just appear whenever it's most convenient for him. Gabe's chestnut and red-flecked eyes switch over to him quickly. The man explains. “She wants to help her country, however that's possible. Isn't that right?” He asks. The Russian looks down at him, her eyes narrowing.

“Yes. For now. I am told that you,” Her eyes snap back onto Gabriel, “Have left Talon. That you have lots of information we can use. That you can be _trusted_ now.”

“Well I'm _not_ with Talon.” Gabe growls, slightly defensive.

“Forgive me if I don't believe you right away.”

“Reaper hasn't been active for months, Aleksandra.” Jack insists. “Gabriel has been here working with us and giving us valuable aid we couldn't have otherwise gotten. You're here now. One of us. You'll have to get used to him being here.”

“ _And_ some secrecy, I suppose.” She utters, clearly not happy with the details of her cooperation. Then, she smiles at Jaelen, who still wears a scowl. “A strong spirit. That is good, even if it is misguided. Perhaps I will help you later.” Then, the large woman turns away, pacing further into the training room and leaving the three standing there. Once she's out of earshot, Gabriel leans forward some.

“Are you sure she can be trusted not to talk?” He asks Jack, who still looks the way Zarya's gone.

“...More or less, Gabriel. We don't have a whole hell of a lot of choice. Zarya's being here is what made Russia allow us into their territory. We can come and go from there now as we please.”

“Then she's a _spy_.”

“No. Not exactly. We have her under surveillance even if she doesn't realize it. She is sworn to secrecy, so long as we keep serving the better interests of the world. Still, I have no doubt she's keeping her eye on you.”

“ _Guess I'll have to behave._ ” Gabriel seethes.

“Just for now, Gabe. Just until she sees. After all, the last time you two met properly, she was trying to bring a building down on you, and before that, you were trying to kill her superior-”

“I _get_ it, Jack... I just don't like it. Why should we have to give Russia anything to cooperate with us? Overwatch is a hero's organization.”

“An organization that was corrupted and brought down, Gabe. Not a small thing that everyone can forget. We're only getting a second chance because people have hope. We need to prove that their faith isn't misplaced. Just... Go about your business. She'll see, eventually.”

Gabriel wasn't convinced, but... Overwatch was careful. They'd accepted him, after all, after a lengthy amount of time and testing, of course. Zarya wasn't a terrorist, either, which surely helped her. He looked away and motioned over at Jay. “Come on. Lets get back to work.” He uttered with a sign. Jack watched him for a moment longer before pacing away. Gabriel could overhear him giving other trainees back up or advise, from gun training to proper work out safety and routines... Gabriel found himself impressed, though not enough to be too distracted. That didn't mean Jay didn't notice, however. She could see the way Gabriel looked up or glanced his way when the soldier went past, or the way he seemed to overhear conversations not far from them. She smirked after a while, drenched in sweat, and decided to take her leave, offering him a small wave as she departed.

Gabriel decides to stay, and ends up working out alone for several more hours. He has finally worked up a sweat when Jack finally finds him again, holding a bottle of water down to him as they watch the training area start to empty out. It's evening, and most of the people there are going to eat or sleep, or find a late snack somewhere. This leaves the two in moderate privacy. Gabriel looks over to the bottle of water and the hand extending it from where he sits at a weight machine.

“Figured you could use it.” Jack replies gruffly to the unspoken question. Wordlessly, Gabriel accepts the drink and cracks the bottle open. His eyes drift back to the emptying room.

“Why are you here, Jack?”

“Want me to leave?”

“No, I mean... Why are you _here?_ ” Gabe looks back his way and finally moves to stand. “You aren't Overwatch. You wont take up the name or badge or anything, you won't admit to being part of it... But you'll find new recruits, offer advise, training... Help. I guess I don't really know why you're doing it. Wouldn't it be easier to simply _be_ part of Overwatch?” Gabriel pries, facing the Soldier.

“Easier, maybe in some things, Gabe. Not the things I need, though.”

“What do you mean? What do you need?”

“Someone has to keep their ear to the ground without the UN looking, Gabe.”

“That hardly sounds like something a law-abiding boyscout would say.” The wraith teased. Jack chuckles and looks down.

“Yeah, well. I guess we both stopped being law-abiding a long time ago, didn't we? Overwatch was a hope to defeat something terrible then, and it was. We need it again... But the public doesn't know I'm here. Not yet, anyway. Or you, for that matter.”

“Probably better it stays that way.”

“...For the time being. The UN knows who I am.”

“And now Russia knows about me.” Gabe groans slightly.

“ _One_ Russian, Gabriel. Not all of them. We need Zarya in this, and as many other helping hands as we can find. Maybe in time we can convince the world they still need us.”

“ _Do they, Jack?_ ”

“... I think so. Maybe they don't, or maybe they don't realize it... But the rest of the world hasn't seen what you and I have. They don't know what this could mean if Talon has the war it wants, and two Soldiers aren't enough to make the difference anymore.”

“You don't think so?” Gabe asks, smirking faintly. Jack seems to shrug.

“I'm not a young man anymore, Gabe. Sooner or later, this body's going to wear out. Someone else is going to have to pick up the mantle. Carry the torch. Pass the legacy- all that ceremony.”

“Christ, Jack. It's not like you're dead, or dying.”

“Just a matter of time.”

“So _that's_ why you're doing this? Letting Winston run the operation because he's younger?”

“Younger, smarter, more connected, less... Damaged... In all reality, Gabe, you and I should never have been leaders. We were made to be Soldiers. Fighters. Not Captains, not Commanders. By the time SEP was done with us, we were so fucked up, it really ain't any wonder things went the way they did.”

“Come on, Jack.” Gabe says almost gently. “I'm told we did good things. Saved lives.”

“We did... But we did it better when someone else was keeping us under control. Besides, my body ain't what it used to be.”

“We could _both_ say that, but I wouldn't call you weaker.” Gabriel rebukes.

“Well I-”

“Jack.” Gabe interrupts. “You didn't hold back when we were fighting before. You're still lethal. We both are. I'd bet money you could still beat me.”

“What- like in a _duel_ , Gabe?” Jack snorts- the idea is ridiculous and he knows it.

“Sure. Why not? I'd take it.” Gabe dares.

“You'll _lose_ just to win the bet.” The Soldier snorts.

“ _Try me_.” Gabe presses. Their stares meet in a long, challenging glare, and Jack huffs.

“ _Fine._ Only because I know you won't shut up about it if I decline.”

Gabriel smirks faintly, and Jack moves off to the wrestling mats in the back of the training facility, now completely vacated. The shade follows after him, setting his bottle aside and reaching up to undo the zipper of his hoodie. It's pulled off and away, dropped on the floor nearby, leaving them both in similar outfits: Gabe in a black tank top and mostly black shorts with a red stripe down the seam, and Jack in a grey tank top and simple blue shorts.

Cracking his neck and his knuckles, Gabe takes up a position across from Jack, who rolls his shoulders somewhat.

“No cheating, Gabe... You keep that smokey business out of this. Those _arms_ too.”

 _So, he was looking at them._ The shade chuckles. “What do you take me for, Jack?” He asks, straightening his spine so that it emits a satisfying pop.

“Don't get cocky. I'm not going easy on you.”

“I'm _counting_ on it, Jackie.”

 

Then, before he knows it, the spar has started. Jack has lunged at him, catching him off guard and throwing him to the ground. It takes all of Gabe's willpower not to instinctively wraith out of the hold and away from the assailant. Instead, he relies on his human instincts and smarts to get himself out of the hold, shoving an elbow up into Jack's torso, making him grunt. The distraction is just enough for Gabe to wedge a hand between them, then roll himself out from under the soldier. Jack grapples for him, but Gabriel is able to flip over, forcing Jack onto his back.

But, Jack is a tough wall of muscle, and with a grunt, he forces his arms slowly upwards against Gabe's straining hands, lifting the shade off of him entirely, muscles pressing against the boundaries of his clothing, a detail that Gabriel didn't miss. With a heavy thrust, Jack throws Gabriel off of him. The two roll away from one another, until they're back on their feet, both panting and staring each other down.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Jack taunts, and Gabriel smirks, then launches himself forward. This time, there's a swing, then a kick, which Gabriel catches and uses to throw Jack down. The soldier wheels and throws his weight, using it to put himself on top of Gabriel, pinning him down. Then, Jack does something _telling._ He sits up, and uses his knees to pin Gabe's arms. Gabe knows what's coming and braces himself for the incoming impact. Even still it's a hell of a lot harder than he could have expected. Jack's elbow strikes his temple so hard that his head is turned violently to the side. For a moment, the room spins, and Gabriel chokes out a gasp, followed with a sudden laugh.

“Christ, Jack...”

“ _Giving in, Gabe?_ ” Their eyes meet and Gabriel smirks again.

“You're going to hit me again if I don't-”

“You don't want to give in and admit you lost.”

“If I cheat-”

“ _I'll hit you again._ ”

But then, Gabriel's smile widens and he laughs. All at once, the shade has collapsed out from under Jack, his rumble echoing into the room around them both as he dissolves into a black mist, a cloud that wraiths up and around the Soldier like steam. From within the cloud of pitch, his red eyes are evident, somehow less wicked seeming now than before, and more playful. There's a smile on the man's lips as he reforms a short distance behind Jack, arms crossed, looking smug. He knows he isn't playing by the rules, but Jack expected that.

Jack growls, but it isn't genuinely angry. Gabe can hear an amusement in the Soldier's voice. He likes the difficulty and wants more. Does no one do this with Jack anymore, Gabe wonders? The man seems winded; they both are, but adrenaline pumps through Jack's veins in a way that Gabriel has only seen when actually fighting him. Maybe the old Soldier needs to know he can defeat the Reaper that Gabriel became... A duel sure as hell wouldn't prove that, but in a way, Gabe wants to see it too. He wants to see some confirmation of what his memories show him every time he had them. Maybe he needs to see the proof that the fierce warrior within the blond still exists beneath the surface of this scarred face. His eyes are the same, along with his smile, but Gabe needs to see more. It's clear that Jack enjoys this. The two are smiling at each other.

“Knew you'd get out of that, somehow.”

“Never was a lesson you needed to teach me.” Gabriel rebukes, and Jack chuckles.

“You remember that, then?”

“I remember a lot of things now, Jack.”

The two stare at one another for a moment longer before suddenly Jack is coming after him again, closing the distance. First, one swing from the left then right, then left again. The wraith blocks each of them with his arms, until one foot comes for his leg, an unforeseen attack that Gabriel didn't have time to interrupt. It knocks him off balance, and he staggers backwards until he feels his back hit the wall of the training room, hands up in a defensive position. But then, Jack is right there again, and Gabe feels himself quickly becoming trapped. Jack is stronger than he expected, and a hell of a lot faster. Sure, they'd fought before, but fighting a man with a pulse rifle and a tactical visor wasn't the same as fighting a man with bare hands and nothing but sweat and muscle to back him up. Gabriel struggles not to simply ghost away from the uncertain situation once more, but pride holds him in place. Then, Jack opens up an accidental gap in his defenses, and Gabriel capitalizes at once. Three swings land on the tough muscle of Jack's gut before the fourth cuts up under his jaw, knocking him completely off his feet and onto the floor below. Gabe's eyes pop with immediate regret and he drops his guard. Jack's jaw sports a small cut.

“Shit, Jackie, I'm sorry-” he starts as he comes forward, reaching a hand down to offer the man some help up. Jack takes the offer, except that the second their hands lock, Jack jerks Gabe down with unexpected strength, and the shade rolls forward. For a moment, they grapple, until suddenly Gabriel finds himself pinned under Jack once more.

He could get away again, if he wanted to. It would be too easy to simply evaporate away, or even use his extra arms to shove Jack off of him- but he refuses. He won't cheat again, not when it was so unfair. It was amusing before, but what fun was a duel in such circumstances? This time, Jack's hands are on Gabe's shoulders and his legs pin down his thighs, and they stare at each other face to face, the Soldier's features silhouetted in the dim light of the night-lit training room. They're both exhausted and panting, each waiting for the other to make some kind of move.

“What are you waiting for, Gabe?” Jack repeats finally after a few long seconds, but this time it isn't a taunt. He's waiting for the cheat, bracing himself for the inevitable loss of the Reaper's weight beneath him. But, Gabriel is smirking, a small laugh sliding out of him.

 

“ _Maybe I'm waiting for you to do something stupid, Jack._ ”

 

Suddenly, there's a quiet between them so heavy that Gabe can feel his heart doing hurdles in his chest and he can feel his pulse in his neck and across the tense expansion of his stomach. The blue eyes over him widen with surprise and then, deliberation. There's so much yet that's unknown... So many memories still locked away. Gabe wants this. He's been wanting it for a while, and Jack has been hesitant to give him anything... Yet, the longer the two are together, the more difficult it becomes to resist the urge. Old feelings resurface like dying coals lit suddenly ablaze.

 

Without thinking or debating even one more moment, Jack leans in and presses his lips forcefully up against Gabriel's.

 

A small sound of mixed surprise and want slips out of Gabe, and he kisses back, brows pinching. His elbows bend, bringing his hands off the floor onto the Soldier's sides, fingers tightening into the muscle beneath the shirt. Jack kisses him again, this time more needily, head tilting as he groans into it, his own brows furrowing deeply. Warning flags clearly go up in the back of the Soldier's mind, but he shoves them away, especially as he feels Gabriel's tongue. An unexpected moan slips out of Jack, and he turns his head away, breaking the kiss, eyes shifting almost frantically towards the door, like someone might see them. No one was there. Beneath him, Gabriel feels like he's on fire. The smile he wears is wide, warm and intoxicating. His chestnut and red eyes seem to beg Jack not to stop.

 

But, stop is exactly what he does. Jack pushes himself up off of Gabe, and extends a hand to help him up. Eyes flick between the offered hand and blue eyes before he takes it and comes to his feet. Nerves still run through him, dancing along his spine and exciting him beyond proper words. Smoke drifts up and off of his skin in small rolling waves, a clear sign of his interest even if he wasn't aware of that _particular_ symptom before. Tongue absently wets his lips as the two stand there, for a moment awkward and quiet, tasting what remains of Jack there almost greedily. Gabriel wants to say more- he wants to _kiss_ more, but Jack is nervous and uncertain.

“It's... Uh. It's late.” The old Soldier finally spits out, and Gabriel falls into a small chuckle, blushing somewhat, a darkening of his cheeks that Jack has missed desperately.

“Yeah... A little bit.” The wraith stammers almost awkwardly.

Jack's flushing too, a detail that he hides only marginally by looking away.

“Look, uh...” Jack's voice gains some strength as he struggles to regain some of his common sense. “Let's not blow this out of proportion, Gabe... There's a lot of work we have to do here. We can't afford any distractions. I'm going to go and sleep.” _Or take a cold shower,_ Gabe thinks.

“ _Alright._ ” He replies somewhat smoothly, though inwardly he's disappointed. He wanted, maybe needed more. But, Jack's right. They had other things that were more important to deal with, like the war Talon was trying to start, and the civil unrest stirring between omnics and humans in other parts of the world. Moreover, there was something more that was making Jack hesitant about it, and Gabe knew what it was.

The truth. None of them knew yet exactly what had happened years ago, with Gabriel and Blackwatch and the fall of Overwatch. None of them knew how it had happened, except that Gabriel himself seemed to have gone _mad_ , or something... That was the only part of it that Jack remembered on a personal level.

 

The Soldier was striding away then, apparently with nothing else to say. Gabe watched him go, nerves slowly dying in his frame as something akin to sorrow overcame him. _Why did he have to be this thing? Why couldn't he have just been normal?_ The thoughts like a plague settled deep in his chest and he eventually fetched his hoodie and lurked back towards his own quarters, where he brooded. But... Ultimately it was the way that Jack had kissed him that came back to him. The warmth of his lips, the ferocity behind it, the desire he could practically taste on the man. Jack was holding back, and it was a struggle even for him. They both wanted this, but there was a sense of fear in it for Jack.

 _Give it time._ The words Jesse had given Gabriel before kept going over and over in his head. That was all Jack needed... Time.

_But he was so impatient. He craved more._

 

A small, delighted sort of smile worked itself onto Gabe's lips as he wandered up to the mountain to meditate that night.

 

_He kissed Jack Morrison._

 

~

 

There's a familiar weight at his back, the familiar pounding of gunfire in his ears. They've been fighting now for what feels like two hours, but he knows it hasn't been that long. Everyone's bleeding or injured. Jack bleeds from his ears and mouth, a percussion injury from the blast that had taken out two of his team members. Sweat ran with blood, and the sky reflected red off of the sheen of their skin. They were completely penned in. Two collapsed buildings acted as a barricade against the SEP and the advancing omnics.

This was it, they both knew. Death was coming for them. They were the last two teams alive on the SEP, and they'd already lost a few of their own. Val had gone down minutes ago, along with Merrick. Eddie now fought along side them with DeLina. Jack's team was down to just two others as well. They were done for. The Soldier's stepped backwards, feet and backs hitting the rubble of the collapsed building uncertainly as the noose tightening around them grew even more constrictive. In seconds, bastions would roll through the breach and end them. Evac was on its way, but bastions had set up around the perimeter, preventing anyone or any _thing_ from getting close. They wanted to end the SEP here and now.

Ammo began to dwindle down. Tears ran down Eddie's cheeks from the loss of Merrick minutes prior. DeLina was stone-faced as usual, her eyes hard and focused. A sketchy, rattled communication rolled through their headsets, trying to advise them, but none of them were able to respond, too busy reloading and aiming and letting loose.

“Last grenade.” DeLina said as she loosed the one on her belt. A hardened veteran, she knew that the Bastions would shoot the grenade down before it actually landed on them. She was tired of fighting and running, and had seen too many of her partners die in battle. These were things she had confided in Gabriel on their flight out here. They had managed their mission here: destroy the final Omnic manufactory. End their line and make it so that world military actually had a chance to defeat them. The manufactory laid in a heap half a mile from here. They'd just needed a little more time and a few more Soldiers. They'd all come here for a purpose, she agreed. Like Gabriel, she was in charge of her own fate. She wasn't going down like her partners, and she didn't want to live in a world where they had died for nothing.

She didn't seem to want to live in a world without them at all.

Her eyes met Gabriel's and then Jack's.

“It was an honor, gentlemen.” She said firmly, and Jack almost stammered a _no_ , but Gabriel instead saluted her.

“To glory, DeLina.” He said.

 

and she nodded, then bolted away from them. She pulled the pin on the grenade and then tucked it into her body as she rolled forward, through the breach. Her body acted like a shield to the hail of bastion fire that would have taken out the grenade, and a second later, it exploded, along with every omnic crowding the space.

She had sacrificed herself to give them a little more time, and it was working. Evac cracked loudly into their ears. _Thirty seconds, Soldiers, hold on!_

Then, the tell-tale whirring and beeps of a bastion rolling into tank form. It began to blast openly into the remaining SEP fighters, forcing them to scatter. One of Jack's team went down, trapped between debris and the assaulting bastion, and then the other, nearest to him. Overhead, the howl of an engine roared, scattering black smoke and revealing itself with spotlights. A ladder dropped down, and all three remaining soldiers leapt for it. Eddie didn't quite make it, his legs blown out from under him, but his death was quick there after as another shot eviscerated what was left of him. Gabe was sure to have nightmares about it for years. They both were.

Gabriel had landed on the ladder, and Jack, only a few feet below. Cannon fire whirred past them, aiming for them both, and then the ship, but luckily missing all its targets. The ship huffed into motion, straight up and then away, carrying them away from the battle, bleeding and broken in mind and spirit.

They were all that was left.

Everyone else was dead and gone- Val, Eddie, DeLina, Merrick, all of Jack's team... Everyone. All of their brothers had given their lives so that they could now fly out of here. Gabriel covered his mouth with one hand, still clinging to the ladder as guilt overcame him. Tears now fled down his face and he sobbed. They were running away. They should have died with them- should have fought to the last man. Ended it, once and for all. Before he could even begin to properly process his intense grief, rage overcame him. His eyes burned with fire, his skin etched with black lines of soot and smoke.

 

“ _I will make them all suffer for this._ ”

 

Gabriel knows the memory that follows. He and Jack, standing there in suits in the sun, eyes locked, surrounded by headstones. Now, Gabriel can recognize the headstones nearest to them: Their Team, all glorified together. Their headstones had been places in a large circle, back to back, to show how they had all been connected, to show how they had protected one another, even at the end. Flowers littered the ground along with hundreds of candles. Gabriel had met some of their families that day, and had spent hours telling them about the bravery of their kin, and telling them how they had been crucial to the defeat over the omnics. The SEP had done most of the heavy lifting in the fight, but afterwards, the Military had cleaned them up like little more than spent tin cans, a title Gabe would later use to refer to them.

As for the rebel omnics who had turned away from that dark cause... Well. He knew now that they must have become the population of omnics that now existed in peace along side the humans in today's society, still fighting the battle of whether or not they were sentient or not.

The war was anything but over. Even now, there were forces of omnics moving, but they were weakened. Gabriel knew that in time, they'd return.

 

And when they did, they would pay for what they had done.

Gabriel would make sure of it.

 

Overwatch was the first step.

 

~

 

That was years ago, and now, here they were, alive and kicking, more or less. Gabriel couldn't help remembering the kiss. The way it felt, and how eager Jack has seemed... But... The Soldier was right. He had to give this more time and more space.

 

The following morning, the two seemed to agree on just that as Jack brought coffee to him.

“Look... Last night was impulsive.” Jack started, standing awkwardly in Gabe's doorway.

“I goaded you.” Gabe uttered quietly, looking down at the coffee. They spoke quietly, so that no one else would hear.

“That doesn't mean I should have-” The Soldier looks down and sighs, then away as he shoves the drink tray forward. “Just take the god damn coffee, Reyes.” He adds in a defeated tone. Gabriel smirks and then chuckles, reaching out to accept it. He lifts the mug in a small sort of cheers, then brings it up to his lips for a long sip, eyes glued on Jack like a predator. “We don't know the whole story.” Jack continues. “It's too soon for this, and too much of a distraction, as I said. We can't afford any of that right now...”

“Jack.”

“And right now we have so many pro-”

“ _Jack..._ ”

“And if Overwatch found out that we-”

“ _JACK!_ ” Gabriel interrupts, pushing himself through the door somewhat, into Jack's face.

The Soldier stops and meets his eyes, lips slightly parted, exhausted with himself.

“You're freaking yourself out. Stop it. It was just a kiss. Nothing else.” Gabe growls. He pauses as he debates... Then leans forward to whisper.

 

_“Just like this.”_

 

Then his mouth presses hotly against Jack's, stealing another, perhaps unwise kiss from Jack's stilled, petrified lips. It's a short and fleeting thing, followed up with abrupt absence as the wraith slides backwards into his room.

“Thanks for the drink.” He utters as a sort of farewell before shutting the door in Jack's face. There's a pleased expression on his features and a sweet taste on his lips. and it isn't just the java in his hand. He hums a small laugh and walks away, flopping onto his couch in a smoking, flustered heap and crossing his ankles. He puts on an old show and drifts off.

 

Jesse presses his back to his own door, having watched the last bits of the conversation over the camera outside his quarters. A small smile works itself onto his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! I know a lot of you were looking forward to this chapter, so I decided to keep it short and sweet rather than adding any extra fluff for the sake of page count. 
> 
> As always, polite, constructive comments are welcome! Please let me know if you find any spelling errors ^^.


	29. Doom

Jack sits in his room, face in his hands. _What in god's name are you getting into, Soldier?_ No one knew who Reyes was anymore. No one knew what he had done, or what had actually happened during the fall of Overwatch. Besides all that? He had _heard_ Reaper with Widowmaker. He had seen how he dug through the wreckage after her. With his own eyes, he'd seen the wraith defend her. Footage existed of Reaper risking himself and saving her life, and Jack had seen it multiple times.

Reaper was in love with Widowmaker, or at least it appeared that way. These feelings Jack had were ancient and perhaps, he wondered, misplaced. He needed to know the truth.

 

He needed to know the truth before he let this go too far.

 

Katie was a little curious too, as Gabe discovered at lunch. Well, her lunch, anyway. The two sat at a table in the back of the cafeteria, and she was smiling at him from across her plate. Gabriel was smiling. The man may as well have been glowing. She chuckled at him.

“The hell has gotten into you? Something happened, didn't it?”

“Mmm... No? No. What makes you think that?” He asked.

“You're happy, for once.” Katie utters, smirking at him.

“I'm allowed to be happy _sometimes_ , Katie. You should be glad, anyway.”

“Right... Right. Anyway. I'm done here. You got any plans today?”

“Not particularly.”

“Good, then you can come to work with me.”

“What? Why would I want to do that?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just humor me, Gabe. It wouldn't kill you to come see what we do there.” She says, moving to stand, and he sighs. Reluctantly he follows her, and it isn't long before he finds himself standing in a laboratory hall. It's quite large with tall, vaulted ceilings and multiple levels. Greenery grows in tall glass chambers along the walls, and in pillars in the middle of the room. Cyan and white lights run in long rail across the ceilings and in one row along the wall on each level. There are white desks and whole lab stations, tall, clean machinery, holo-screens everywhere with data, chemicals in vials, small blue flames making others boil. It was sterile and clean and beautiful. Gabriel was taken aback by the innovation and technology here, and yet, he's slightly unnerved by it all. Somewhere in this lab there was technology to nullify his nanites, technology to stop Katie from aging, or something... Technology to create giant pillars of ice and make graviton guns and god knew what else. It was too much to ever have in one place, and suddenly, he understood why the UN was so hesitant about Overwatch. Suddenly, Zarya's presence here made a lot more sense. Someone needed to keep Overwatch in check... Especially if another organization like Blackwatch got started somewhere within it.

“You should tell me about it.” Katie said as she lead him effortlessly through the room, bypassing associates and other scientists who hardly even seemed to realize they were there.

“About what?” he asked, his eyes still swiveling. One or two of the lab assistants stopped as Gabriel passed them, idly sticking their hands out into the air behind him as he passed, trying to get a feel of the ghostly, black tendrils that wafted off of him. One of them even tried to grab one of those ethereal arms of his, making him jerk suddenly and twist away, bumping into another's rolling marker board. He almost lost track of Katie, and had to jog to catch up with her, holding his hands up defensively to another curious scientist.

“ _Off..._ ” Reaper warned in a venomous tone.

“Enough!” Katie snapped as she turned around, facing a trio of scientists who all seemed transfixed by what she'd brought in with her. “Go away, you three. He's a visitor, not a project.”

They groaned with disappointment, then reluctantly slunk away. Gabriel sighed some relief and looked back to her as she set herself up at her desk and motioned a seat. He took it, but perhaps smartly kept his eyes on the rest of the room, and any lurking parasites.

“Tell me about how it happened.” She said finally. “About the SEP, after I left. About you and Jack. How did that happen?”

Gabriel snaps his eyes her way and he shrugs. He's surprised by her intuition. It's obvious to her that this has something to do with Jack, and he's impressed. “Slowly, I guess... They put him with me, and then I got promoted. We flirted a little I guess... Then a little more.”

“Don't imagine that went over well with the Colonel.” She mused, leaning onto a microscope.

“Oh, not at all.” Gabe uttered with a smirk.

“So then what?”

“So we kept doing it, I guess. He couldn't afford to lose us. Jack got promoted, and got his own team. Fought the omnics tooth and nail... Almost died. Then we moved on... On to Overwatch.”

 

As Gabriel trails off, another memory comes to him.

 

~

 

Overwatch. A symbol of hope for the world. A budding organization with more than just Soldiers. More than just bizarre chemicals pumped into bodies then thrown into war to see the results. Overwatch was made for the people, and not just Americans, but _all_ people. Gabriel and Jack, dressed in blue suits decorated with ranks and medals, along with brand-new Overwatch Insignia pins, had been meeting ambassadors and possible new recruits all day long. It was exhausting, but a hell of a lot better than fighting any wars. The Overwatch base itself was still a new installment centered in an undisclosed location in the UK. It was better this way, and, most likely, it wouldn't end up being their only base. It was painted in white and dark grey, accents of goldenrod with high windows. Banners of printed artworks depicted the places of the world and the people in it, reminding all within who they were doing this for. Potted palms and ferns gave the base a botanical feel, comfortable and clean. Outside, the grounds were grass and leaf-litter, landscape speckled with tall northern pine trees and maples that did a fairly good job of disguising the building to onlookers from above. Even the roof of many of the buildings were lined with technology to render the facility more or less camouflaged into the scenery. The base itself was large, with at least six different massive buildings and numerous underground facilities all interconnected. Gabriel found himself reminded of an old airport, and had to wonder if that's what these buildings had been before being re-purposed for Overwatch. After all, they'd gone up too quickly and the grounds cleaned too efficiently to have simply been a forest before. The quarters were a mix between above and below ground, and new workers were at first asked their preference. Naturally, Gabriel and Jack had chosen their rooms right next to one another, if only because sharing a room wasn't _technically_ allowed.

Gabriel had been appointed Commander of Overwatch from day one, an honor that Colonel Walcott had seen to personally. They saluted one another, a sort of final farewell to the SEP program and everything it entailed as Gabriel and Jack embarked on this new endeavor. They had no bosses now, no, they were under their own leash, so to speak, and it felt _good._ General Adawe, at the time an Under-Secretary-General of the UN, saw to the creation of Overwatch on a legal level, constantly reassuring the two Soldiers of the programs intentions and what it would be used for. This, she insisted, was for heroes. This wasn't a private organization that would be used to fuel political propaganda or fight in menial disputes between countries. No. This was Overwatch, a completely unhinged organization made for the safety of everyone... Indeed, everyone. And now, it was being handed to them, the last two remaining war heroes of the SEP. Gabriel, chiefly, because he had been the man with the most expertise and most success in leading during the struggle. Yet, Gabriel treated Jack like an equal, as he had now for months, his partner in this as he was in just about every other aspect of Gabriel's life. The two spoke endlessly for hours about policies and rules, regulations that they should implement into Overwatch, and the kind of people they should let in. Scientists were an important added feature, but no experiments. Not on people, at least. Not like the ones in SEP. No injections. No trials by fire. They were going to do this the right way, they decided.

And, part of that, they both agreed at once, was allowing their fighters and workers to communicate with their families as often as they needed to. Of course, specifics would still need to be kept down, like locations and mission details, but that was purely for their safety.

Gabriel had gone to see Rosa as planned and spent time with her, meeting the previously mentioned boyfriend, Jake. The man seemed a good fit for Rosa, and she clearly adored him, yet, he clearly felt intimidated by the now relatively-famous brother she had. It made Gabriel chuckle, and he smiled warmly just before offering his _stern_ warnings against _ever_ hurting or betraying the adored little sis. Then, it was back to the new project that was Overwatch, and the slow climb of peaceful Omnics. “No omnics.” Gabriel had said firmly about new recruits into Overwatch. “Not yet. We don't know enough about them, so we can't trust them.” Ultimately, it was a decision that Jack had agreed with.

Then, they met Ana.

Ana Amari,. A spitfire of a sniper, highest of her class all through training and a crucial member of the Security Forces in Egypt. She, it was said, had been pivotal to defeating the Omnic forces that had budded there, while SEP was fighting the war in North America. Her tattoo'd eye, obsidian black hair, the confident way she carried herself, her sharp attitude and wit- it was hard for the boys _not_ to talk about her, at first... At least until she made it quite clear that she was _not_ some object to be ogled. Ana Amari was the definition of a mothering badass. They knew they needed her, and she was eager to accept the invite to Overwatch.

Reinhardt Wilhelm came next. He was a monolithic man with a knights heart and the ferocity of a bear. Accounts of the aid he had given to people in need in Germany were counted by the dozens. Some of those encounters he had even done single-handedly, and everyone on board agreed they would be fools not to accept someone so powerful... Even if his choice in music was a disaster, and his hair seemed far too long for a man his size.

_Ana didn't seem to mind that part._

Still, besides brawn, Reinhardt offered a special sort of intelligence that few others could offer. Always, in the back of his mind, he kept honor as one of his most stalwart values. Glory and honesty were close seconds, and he would be the driving moral compass that was sure to keep them in check.

Reinhardt had something of a friend- a brilliant engineer, he insisted. Torbjorn Lindholm was a mechanical mastermind, if a somewhat short-statured man with a foul attitude. Gabriel discovered at once that he didn't much care for the bearded man, and the feeling seemed mutual... But, he knew omnics. He knew how to build them and take them apart, repair them and destroy them. He knew what made them tick, and how best to overcome them. Many of his own inventions were ingenious, even if they did seem made entirely of scrap half the time, and sometimes took a little bit longer to get running than any of them had hoped. Torb, they would often call him, was accepted on to the main team almost overnight for his utility and intellect.

Lastly, Liao. Liao was a mysterious sort of operative, as their successes were the least known out of everyone collected there. What Gabriel could find on them was sparse and cryptic even then. Liao seemed to prefer it this way, and instead insisted that their cryogenic additions would be beyond useful within Overwatch. An attempt was made to educate Gabriel on the scientific details, but... Gabriel was no scientist, and nor was Jack, so the most of the jargon went completely, entirely over their heads. With a smile and a laugh, several of the scientists on board suggested that having Liao with them would be for the better of everyone, even if the two heads didn't quite understand why.

After all, people could be removed if they didn't prove their worth, right? With the new organization so small and fresh, Gabe wasn't in any position to argue, because they needed everyone they could get. Because of this, it was agreed that the Cryo-expert would join them. Perhaps in time, it would prove a good decision, Gabriel thought, trusting the advise of more educated minds than his own suspicions.

It wasn't long after that when Gabriel met Gerard.

Gerard was a witty Frenchman with the blackest hair Gabe had ever seen. He seemed to be man of all trades, good for stealthier, quieter missions, as well as those that required the touch of someone more political and charismatic. He was quick to laugh and to make deals, and Gabriel was sure that the man could sell anything if given the right atmosphere. But, Gerard wasn't interested in joining; at least not yet. When asked, he said he was just trying to get a feel for it, which seemed strange considering that he was several years younger than everyone else who had just joined on. How could someone so young seem so matured and have excelled at so much in his life? Ultimately, Gerard went back to France to pursue ' _other endeavors,'_ or so he said, anyway.

Later, Jack and Gabriel reclined together in Gabe's room as the new commander plucked at the strings on a familiar painted guitar. An old, worn grey beanie hid away most of his hair, and Jack pressed kisses along the side of his bare neck.

“ _This is nice._ ” Jack whispered, and Gabe chuckled, glancing over.

“The music?”

“All of it. The room. The music... You... _This._ ”

“ _Me, Jackie?_ ”

“You're different now, Gabe. Calm. I haven't seen you this happy in... Uh. Ever.” He said gently, leaning over and pressing a few more heated kisses along Gabe's shoulder.

“War ain't over yet, Jack.”

“No. But it's going to be. I can see it in your eyes. You can taste victory, can't you?”

“I wouldn't get that cocky...” Gabe muses, blushing somewhat. He sets the guitar aside, and Jack quickly occupies his lap.

“I like you out of SEP clothes, too. It's a nice change.”

Gabe was wearing black jeans for once, and a black, dressy button down shirt that he'd worn to dinner that night with the rest of the new Overwatch team. There was a familiar square buckle on the front of his belt, along with a little spiked belt that trailed back to his wallet. The first few undone buttons of his shirt were tempting to Jack, who started to undo the rest of them. Jack had shed his own shirt about thirty minutes prior, leaving him in a white undershirt and a pair of dark blue denims. His hair was combed, even styled for once, and all shreds of their injuries have long since faded. Gabe can appreciate Jack's stunning good looks now more so than he could before. He turns his head up to the blond, who suddenly kisses him. Gabe chuckles into it then presses his forehead into Jack's.

“ _Calm down, Sunshine._ ” He purrs. “ _You might come off like you're interested._ ” He teases effortlessly, and Jack pulls back, meeting his stare. His playful smile grows more genuine.

“I love you, Gabriel.”

Gabe's heard it before, but that doesn't change how much it stirs his heart into a silent flurry. Flushing, the man smirks.

“ _Yeah. You're definitely interested._ ”

The two laugh together, then fall into another set of kisses that end with Gabriel rolling over and taking the lead.

 

It seems like the beginning of a new life.

 

~

 

Suddenly, the pleasant memory is lost as a horn rolls through the lab's intercoms. It's loud, and very obviously an alarm. Gabriel is jerked free of his daydream, as Katie suddenly jolts nearby.

“What was that?” Gabriel asks as he abruptly comes to his feet.

Katie looks unsure and mildly afraid as she shakes her head. “Nothing good. We have to go. Now.”

“Go? _Go where, Katie?!_ ” Gabe stammers nervously.

Then, there's a voice over the intercom, loud and familiar. It's Winston.

“Everyone, change your holo-screens to the local breaking coverage- something is happening- has happened...” He sounds just as unsure as everyone else. So much for going somewhere; no one leaves, or even moves. Everyone seems frozen to the spot.

At once, five large holos light up on the far wall of the laboratory, though many individual lab holo-screens light up as well. The local news is in another language- italian, which Gabriel doesn't speak, but what it shows is obvious to him.

The max security prison- Helix Security. There are signs of a fight, dust drifts up from the main doors. Already, there are suit pilots in the air and fighters on the ground holding up something akin to riot shields as they face the doors. Everyone looks on with rapt attention.

Then, there's a loud bang that radiates from within, and then another.

The security doors bow and warp, and the men with shields below start to yell orders at one another. Helix pilots start to swarm like wasps. Finally, someone is able to translate the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen from Italian to English.

_Twelve men dead. Six more wounded, conditions inside the prison are still uncertain. Sources say that the prisoner Akande Ogundimu, also known as Doomfist the Successor, has reportedly escaped his cell and now seeks to escape from the installation. Some sensors from within also seem to suggest that several other cells have been unlocked in the process, but these sensors may be malfunctioning, or it is possible that Ogundimu has mobilized them in his favor._

 

Doomfist.

Gabriel feels the pit of his stomach drop.

Then, all at once, there he is. The doors erupt outwards with a loud crack and sandstone colored dust radiates upwards, clouding the area, including the vision of the Helix pilots in the air. Doomfist stands at the top of the stairs in just a pair of prison fatigues, ripped and bloodied with signs of trouble. All eyes are on him, and another round of shots goes up among the guards. They advance half a step.

_Bang._

One of the guards drop, and then, three more, blood oozing from their heads or shoulders.

“ _Cecchino! Cecchino!_ ”

“Sniper...” Katie breathes quietly behind him, a translation of their words.

“ _Amelie..._ ” Reaper rumbles beside her, his eyes wide and frantic, trying to find her in what little footage the cameras offer, though now, the cameras jerk and drift erratically about, not sure what they should be transmitting to live coverage. Obviously, all of them have shifted away from the blood, but at least one of them remains primed on Akande, who looks pleased with himself. Through the dust, Helix pilots can't find the sniper, but she finds them with ease. One after another, they fall from the sky, terrifying the scattering guards below.

Akande descends from step to step, casually, slowly. His very presence intimidates everyone around him, even without his gauntlet.

Two guardsmen try to be brave and rush forward, coming up to him with their shields and drawn pistols. But, Akande is swift, and easily throws one aside with little more than a thrash from his left hand, shattering the gun in his hand and causing the shield to slide across the sand in a heap, far from reach. Then he catches the other by the throat as he rushes forward, trying to capitalize on the distraction. In a show of strength made to terrify others, he lifts the man only to throw him down. The man, winded, lays on his back at Akande's feet. Gabriel feels his stomach turn.

“No- No... Execution-” Gabriel stammers out in a hallowed breath, as Akande lifts one foot and places it down on the other's throat. It's slow at first, and his eyes lift, looking directly into the floating cameras of drones as Widowmaker hails bodies down around him.

Then, with a gut wrenching crack that radiates through the surrounding buildings, he stomps his foot down hard with so much force that the head rolls aside, not severed, but obviously broken beyond repair. All at once, the cameras have turned aside, blackened or turned back to reporters in light of the murder they have all just witnessed. Screams roll up through the camera's audio, and a few of the lab assistants in the room with them scream as well.

Doomfist. The warrior with twisted morals, few to none at best.

The Talon operative had been locked away for years and with good reason. His gauntlet had been taken and put in a museum, something that Gabe had himself tried to retrieve with Widowmaker, to their failure. As far as he knew, the gauntlet was still out of reach... Katie seemed to understand the thoughts in his mind as soon as he thought it, and their eyes locked.

“We need to secure that gauntlet.” Gabriel growls, moving at once towards the doors of the lab, his long strides carrying him with purpose.

“Gabriel! Gabe! Stop! You can't go after it yourself-”

“ _Stay out of this, Katie. You don't know what he's capable of.”_ Reaper growls, shadows wafting off of him as he picks up speed.

Winston's voice cuts over the intercoms again.

“Immediate meeting at the control center! Paging Amari, Morrison, Ziegler, Wilhelm, Shimada-”

And Gabriel was going to be there whether they asked for him or not.

The shade became a black mass, a fog of abyssal cloud that raced through the hallways, narrowly navigating around rushing assistants and workers who assisted in keeping people stable and to stop any panic from happening. High alert lights flashed in every corner of the base in shades of red and yellow. The command center was locked, of course, but locks were nothing to Gabriel, who phased through the very cracks and gaps in the walls until he reformed on the other side, now standing in the chamber with everyone Winston had just called out, including a few others: Tracer, McCree, Torbjorn and now, Zarya. Ana is in frantic tears, her make-up smudged as she stands in the back of the room, trying to make contact with her daughter over a phone, or searching for some kind of indication that she's alive and safe.

“Where is Sombra?” Gabriel growls, interrupting their loud chatter.

“You're not suppose to be in here.” Reinhardt points out.

“ _That doesn't matter._ ”

“Gabriel!” Jack gasps.

“Reyes-” Reinhardt growls.

“ _STOP!_ ” Gabriel barks. “I know them better than _anyone_ here. You can NOT do this without me. You need me here.” He snarls fiercely.

“We need to secure Doomfist before he's safe-” Genji starts.

“It's too _late_ for that.” Gabriel hisses. “Wherever Widowmaker is, a drop ship is sure to follow. Likely, they're already off the ground- their ship is stealthed. You won't find them- _where_ is Sombra?!”

“With them-” Winston barks. “She left late last night. She said she had to go, that she was being called to. I can't imagine she knew this was happening-”

“She is the only one who can find Talon now. Can you not call for her?” Gabe insists.

“Not without exposing her. She has to reach out to us- that's the deal. She hasn't sent us anything in hours, we had no way of knowing-”

“FUCK!” Gabriel shouts. “They have her. We have to go- and we have to secure the gauntlet. That's where they'll be going-”

“How do you know all this?” Amari asks, her voice cracked as she lowers the phone, and Gabriel leans forward into the light, his palms pressing flat to the table.

“Sombra would not have said _nothing_ to us if she knew this was happening. They have to have... Have found her out somehow. Moreover, Akande is not _Doomfist_ without his _Doomfist._ They will go for it, so that he can regain power as soon as possible. Once he does, a whole collection of Talon sympathizer organizations will crawl out of the wood-works to aid them. He will personally destroy anyone who even breathes a word of questioning his authority. He will mobilize them into a deadly force- they _will_ extract information out of Sombra. We Have no choice. We have to get to her-”

“We don't have the manpower-” Torbjorn interrupts.

“ _SHE WILL DIE IF WE DON'T!_ ” Gabriel roars so loudly that everyone else goes deathly still. They seem taken aback that he cares as much as he does.

Jack finally speaks up, looking between them.

“Reyes is right. We have to go. If we don't save Sombra, this entire base and everyone in it is compromised... Winston, what are your orders?”

The gorilla seems to debate. He doesn't want to wait, but he has no choice. He nods.

“Morrison, Genji and Angela, you will go to secure the gauntlet. Torb, Reinhardt, Amari, you will go to recover Sombra.”

“And you?” Jack asks, “Where are you going, Winston?”

The Gorilla's eyes narrow.

“I'm going after _him.”_

“ _And what about me?_ ” Reaper snarles.

“... You're to stay here with Agent McCree, Oxton and Zaryanova. It isn't safe for you to go yet- any of you. Someone needs to stay here to keep the base secure. I put Doomfist away last time- and I can do it again. We leave at once. Go!” Winston orders, and everyone splits up. Gabriel stops Jack in the hallway and he seethes in a heated whisper.

“ _You know I should be on that ship- on any one of them with you guys._ ”

“Gabe... They don't know you're alive. No one does. We need to keep it that way.”

“ _JACK! This is my business!_ ” Reaper fumes.

“ _It's out of my hands, Gabriel. I'm sorry. I'll report back to you as soon as I can. You'll be kept up to date-_ ”

Then, the Reaper explodes into a cloud of furious black smoke and twists away, barreling down the halls towards his quarters, where he promptly shatters the nearest table lamp and screams in unadulterated rage.

 

Minutes later, McCree arrives at his door. Gabriel lets him in, but he's fuming even now.

“Gabe... Look. They have orders.”

“ _Orders mean nothing! We will all die-_ ”

“Look... I know- I know! I don't even disagree with you...”

The cowboy stops, drawing up beside Gabriel. His voice lowers.

“ _But laws never got in your way before. They never have. Do as you always do. Make your own way. You are Sombra's best hope. They lift off in fifteen minutes._ ” Jesse shoves something into Gabe's hand- it's a note detailing the proper ship they're taking and what hangar it's in.

Gabriel looks down into his palm, eyes scanning over the info before he meets Jesse's stare.

“You'll get in trouble for this-”

“They can't do much else to me, Reyes. Get going, you ain't got much time.”

 

Without another word, Gabriel flees, ghosting with him his guns, his mask, and everything he might need for the trip.

He finds the ship just where Jesse promised it, engines already hot. At first, Gabriel struggles to find a way in, but ultimately he finds a gap near the landing gear just large enough to seep through. Once more, he finds himself in the mechanics of a plane. The voices of Reinhardt and Torb are easy to hear now. Liftoff is in minutes.

Gabriel remains quiet for hours. He already knows where they're going. It's a Talon base not far from the Security Base in Egypt. It's most likely the one that Sombra was taken to, or where she was when the attack began.

But, she could have also been on the ship that picked up Doomfist and Widow. Only a thorough search would let them know for sure. A thorough search he could do, and not one that Reinhardt could make with Torb either quietly nor quickly. Time was of the essence. For all he knew, they were torturing Sombra right now.

 

Finally, some time later, they arrive. Gabriel can feel the ship slow and drop altitude. He hears them stand and start to talk. They're going over a plan when he suddenly appears from the shadows in the back of the cabin. The ship shudders slightly and then lands, jolting to a stop.

“None of that is going to happen.” Reaper growls, dressed in full tactical gear, mask included. It's a harrowing sight, even now, and stills the three of them into silence.

“Reyes-” Reinhardt starts to argue, but Gabriel lifts a hand.

“ _Don't argue. You'd all be fools not to let me go in there._ You know as well as I that I am faster and stealthier than any of you. Moreover, I have more knowledge of Talon bases than everyone in Overwatch combined. You _need_ me for this. Stay here on the ship. I will sweep the area and see if Sombra is here. If she is, I will extract her. Don't bother to try and reason. I know what I'm doing.” He warns. The two other men look at Ana, who looks at Reaper.

“ _Amari._ ” Gabriel rumbles. The elder sniper deliberates and knits her brows, but finally, she nods.

“Go. Go! There is no time to waste. We will sort this out later.” She barks before suddenly plugging a message into her phone.

 

Then, Gabriel is gone. He teleports outside the ship and arrives feet away from the Talon walls. This one, unlike some of the others, is not run down. It's a high-tech facility made to blend in with the other cities there. Dunes of sand cover one side of it, but those change on a regular basis. The sand covers more than a few vents, and those will likely be shut off. No way in that way. Gabriel glanced up and found a window high on an upper level. For once, there was no way in that didn't involve breaking his way in. He had no choice now.

Almost effortlessly, he scales the wall to the window, which he breaks open with one swift elbow. It isn't thin glass, but all he needs is a crack, and a crack is all that he gains. Seeping in, he reforms just on the other side. It's clear that this is a training facility for Talon Operatives. Right now, it's empty. In fact, it seems abandoned somehow. But how could that be? Why would it be?

Automatically, Gabriel assumes the worst: an ambush. His eyes scan for cameras, but find none. Everything is pitch black except where emergency lights minimally illuminate hallways and where windows cast beams of golden light into rooms. It's sunset, he realizes. When he finds what passes for a Talon mess hall, the refrigerators are still cold. It hasn't been long since everyone left. There's no vehicles in any of the hangars. Fresh tracks in the sand reveal that everyone close to the ground traveled west. All at once, there is an loud noise some distance down the hall, the shattering of a window, and Gabriel turns to investigate.

“ _Don't. Move._ ” Calls a voice suddenly from the doorway. Gabriel stills at once and prepares to wraith. His head turns, glancing out through the corners of his mask towards the person silhouetted by sunlight. Hard features hidden behind gleaming blue and gold metal emerge from the doorway. She has a strong voice, one that Gabe finds familiar.

“My mother told me that they had found you.” The woman says, slowly reaching up to remove her mask. “I did not believe her, until now.” Fareeha Amari. When he sees her face, images of her as a child flash through his mind: a wild little girl chasing him and Jesse around the Overwatch Base. The sound of her laugh.

She hasn't been a child now for years.

“What are you doing here, Reaper?” She asks finally.

“Looking for a friend. What happened here?” He rumbles as he turns to face her.

“We're not sure. Helix tracked six ships and twelve vehicles abandoning this location two hours ago. There was a massive power surge from the complex minutes before. It seemed to take out everything. All of their power, their weapons, stealth tracking... Everything. Most of the Helix forces here have pursued. I was assigned to receive Overwatch. They didn't tell me you were coming.”

“They didn't expect me. Sombra isn't here, is she?”

“I wouldn't know. I just arrived. Finish your sweep.”

“You can't tell anyone you saw me here.” He warns.

“Don't worry, Gabriel... I trust my mother's judgment. I'll go now, and tell them Overwatch was received well. Tell us what you find.”

Gabriel nods, and Pharah leaves, stepping to the edge of the window she broke in through and dropping. Her suit carries her out and away from his line of sight. He twists back towards the facility and wraiths on.

Minutes tick by like hours. He's about to leave, giving up on his search when he hears something. It's barely there- a static tick that rolls through the pipeline until it reaches his ears. He hears it again. It's faint, and this time, he catches wind of something else. A voice.

Impossibly quiet.

 

_“Help.”_

 

Suddenly, Gabriel's stomach jumps into his chest. He charges forward, twisting and whirling, racing towards the sound. For a moment, he loses it, until he hears the whisper again. Sombra.

 

He spots her finally. In the darkness, she looks like little more than a set of neon purple lights, flickering and dying in the pitch. She doesn't even know he's there until he wraiths forward and her eyes catch the gleaming red pits where his eyes are through the abyss.

“ _You...”_ She whispers as she sees him draw close. He comes to kneel at her side. Sombra is trapped beneath a tall I-beam, everything around her has been decimated. An EMP. That was how she had scared them out. Reaper had seen her do it before, but what could have lead her to do it this time, right in front of Talon, against them, even? Much of her wiring is broken, along with much of the circuitry along her arms and spine, or what little he can see of it from the angle. The blast has burned away a good portion of her clothing, and fried many of her components. She's weak and injured, bloody and exhausted.

“Don't speak.” he warns her. “I'm going to get you out. Be still.” His eyes scan the wreckage. There's no way he can get the I-beam off of her- he isn't that strong, and it's wedged too deeply into the structure to be moved without risking killing her. He knows what he has to do, and knows that doing it will weaken him. But... Now, it isn't like before. He can feed as soon as he gets back to base. He'll be sick, but... A sickness won't kill him. Sombra will die if he doesn't do this.

Slowly, he moves and slips over her, groaning in pain as he uses his spine to hoist the I-beam just barely enough to slip in with her. Carefully, he places his arms beneath her.

“Hold on to me.” He whispers. Her eyes seem to flicker with light as she looks up at him.

“This could kill you.” She warns, remembering how it was when he saved Widow.

“It hasn't done it yet. Overwatch has use of you still.” he rasps, straining with the weight he still holds up, limbs beginning to shake.

She cracks a small smile at him. “ _And here I thought you liked me._ ”

“Shut up and hold on.” he barks finally.

Then, he focuses himself the way he has to. His shadows swarm in around him and through him. Soon, they latch onto her as well and his hands tighten. His eyes close and he pictures the place he wants to go. The cold drifts through his feet first, and then, through the rest of him, and then Sombra.

Seconds later, they arrive on the ship, and Gabriel rolls away. Sombra hacks and gags as a wave of nausea takes her. Ana and Rein are on their feet in seconds, and Torb fetches a first aid kit.

“Get us out of here. Now!” Ana barks, and at once, the ship whirs to life and starts moving. Gabriel gags on the floor near the corner where he's rolled to. Black bile pools out of him onto the floor beneath, staining everything it touches. His whole body aches and shudders with pain. Fangs have formed in his mouth, causing even more pain. Fingertips have turned into claws and his eyes are pitch with nothing more than red rings. Already, Sombra is being set up on a stretcher, and Ana tends to her wounds with injections. Shuddering to try and stand, the wraith sags against the far wall, reaching up to remove his mask, now stained almost entirely black.

Reinhardt approaches him, knowing there's nothing he can do to soothe the man's pain. Nothing but a body can help Gabriel from this, as Ana's medications can only do so much. Even her rarer nanite injections are not powerful enough to completely heal him. Reinhardt holds him up, helping him to catch his breath. Gabriel nods a very brief thanks before his head droops.

“You did good, Reyes. Be still and quiet. Ana will help you soon. You should sit.”

“ _I'm fine._ ” Reaper lies, his rumbling voice echoing off the walls of the ship. He remains standing, but even that is a struggle. His pride makes it difficult for him to give in, but ultimately, he finds himself laying along the bench on one side of the ship. When Sombra is stable, Ana secures her next to him and heads to the front compartment to relay their success to Overwatch.

Slowly, Sombra turns her head, looking at Gabe where he lays. His hood acts as a cushion for his head, so his face is exposed. It's still covered in black bile, his eyes, inhuman, his skin as pale as a sheet save for the dark circles around his eyes and all of it dotted with scars, most prominently, the ones on his cheeks that he was known for.

“You saved me.” She whispers finally. His head shifts to regard her before he drops his attention back to the ceiling.

“Don't take it personally.” He rasps, and she smiles again.

_“Thanks, Gabe.”_

 

Eventually, Ana comes by and uses a solvent to clean Gabriel's face, delicately touching up what she can, though, she finds herself unable to touch his mask, and instead slides it under his folded hands to keep.

“I saw your daughter.” He says as she starts to walk away. Ana looks back at him and smiles. “I know, Gabriel. I spoke with her over Radio shortly after she found you. I'm going to let you two rest now. You should do that.” She advises, then strides away.

“Ana- wait-” He rasps. Again, she stops in her tracks. His black and red eyes shift up to her. His voice is almost a whisper. “Jack?”

She smiles softly. “He's alive, Gabriel.” Alive... She didn't say anything about the mission, or whether or not he was healthy. That concerned him greatly. Then, she was gone back to the other cabin. Sombra seems to see the way Gabe's face riddles with concern.

“He's fine, Gabe...”

“ _What do you know about it?_ ”

“If he was hurt or dead, she would've lied about it. She didn't. He's fine.” She was sounding a lot better, but Gabriel could see that much of her technology was in tatters. He very seriously doubted at the moment if she could hack anything, or even pull up a browser if she tried.

“Tell me what happened to you.” He said, his voice rattling still.

Sombra fell quiet and looked away. She didn't want to discuss it, but he had saved her life.

“Last night, they sent for me several hours into the morning. I never tell them where I am, exactly- I run a signal that blocks their transmissions to track me or anything of the sort. So, they call for me, and I go to them. But it was different than normal. Something changed. I went on a ship with them. No disclosed location. I assumed that it was a council meeting; something they've been hinting for a few months. But they wanted something from me first. When we arrived, we were just a half mile from the Helix Security Prison. They wanted me to unleash him. It was one final test... Something that could have gotten me into the council. But... I couldn't do it. I acted as though I was, but I sent out an alarm. I thought I had covered all of my tracks but... Not cleanly enough. Helix Security wasn't enough. They used my code to get him out, to disable the safe holds. Then, all he had to do was bash his way out... Got some of the inmates out with him. They knocked me out and brought me here. They didn't realize I had my own backup supply of power. I used it to get myself free, and then destroy this place. They thought I must have alerted Helix and Overwatch, so they fled, all of them.”

“Where?”

“... I... I don't know. They didn't tell me that. I suspect that they have more bases... And another hacker. They wanted to see if I was genuine, or if I could be replaced.”

“Another hacker... Who?”

“I couldn't say. No one I've ever met or heard of.”

“They didn't find you.”

“No. They knew the building was compromised. They fled before searching for me.”

“Intel inside?” He asks, but her head shakes.

“The EMP has erased all of it. I was hoping to trap them inside. I failed.”

“And Doomfist?”

“With Widowmaker. Going after the gauntlet.”

Inside, Gabriel cringes and he struggles not to get up. “Ana-” he tries to call, but the sniper doesn't hear him.

“What is it?” Sombra asks, and he looks at her.

“Jack, Ziegler and Genji went after the gauntlet... Winston went after Doomfist.”

_Alive. That was what Ana had said._

 

_That would have to do, for now._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. We all knew this had to be coming, right? Playtime's over, boys. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> As a heads up, things around here have been pretty hectic, so I'm going to try my best to have the next chapter out on time, but it might be late by a week or so. So sorry! I will keep you guys up to date.
> 
> For those who are concerned, I'm having some issues with my apartment neighbors that is making it exceedingly hard to stay focused and motivated, so I've been in something of a slump trying to get work done. As, besides doing this fiction, I also play 2 other games and do Art commissions as well, so I've been crazy busy. I hope you guys understand.


	30. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Heavy smut. Sub-Gabe. Yall asked for it, so.
> 
> UPDATE: at the bottom, please read.

Gabriel can't do anything on the plane, as his body is weak and starving. He decides to try another meditation to take his mind off of what may have been going on with Jack, and whatever hell he might have been in. Gabriel's surprised how easily the meditation comes to him, given the circumstances.

 

~

 

The war has ended. The last battle ended the day before. The last of the Omnic hubs were successfully ambushed two days prior, and now, they stood at their celebration. Gabriel went over the fights again and again in his mind. They had lost more than a few men, and they'd had to make some hard calls... Calls that he and Jack hadn't always agreed on. But then, that had been going on since SEP. Ana and Jack had been spending more time together- they all had, but it had been their careful planning that had helped with the defeat of the omnics in the other, more remote locations of the world. Even Torb and Reinhardt had been crucial to the plan's execution.

Now, here they were, standing with their medals together in their suits, staring at each other as Ana charged down the aisle, hooting joyously into the crowd. It was moments after they followed her. Then, they drank, all of them, until they were buzzed enough that they had to go back home- which of course, had become the Overwatch base. Gabriel had called Rosa hours earlier, informing her of the good news. He had promised to see her again soon, and he would.

Now, Jack and he stumbled through the door of Jack's quarters, laughing the whole way as they joked about times that felt so long past. How long had he even known Jack now? It was almost a struggle to remember. The SEP program had swallowed them up so fully, and getting Overwatch started and the Omnics put down had taken a few months as well.

“A year... and a half?” Gabe said absently into the room as he leaned back against the wall to which Jack had him pinned. The blond grunted in a questioning tone as he pressed kisses along the length of the man's neck, nipping now and again, making Gabriel groan pleasurably. His eyes remained fastened on the ceiling, letting his neck crane to the side, giving Jack more room. He was dully aware of Jack's hands on his front, doing something, and the way his suit started to become less tight over his form. “First time our boots touched the tarmac at SEP... First day we met... You stood beside me... I looked at those pretty-boy eyes and thought you were a gonner,” Gabe choked out, laughing, the scent of booze heavy on his lips. Jack laughed back at him.

“Shut up, Reyes. Don't be afraid to admit you fell for my roguishly good looks imme-”

“ _Roguishly?_ ” Gabe barked, suddenly laughing loudly and leaning his head further back against the wall. “Boy, about the only roguish thing about you is that you're with me-” Suddenly Jack's hands had made their way though Gabe's shirt and there were fingertips prodding at his exposed abdomen, making the man shudder. Jack bit down a bit hard then on Gabe's neck, left hand reaching up and tangling in his tie like a leash. Lips traced across Gabriel's ear, and he felt his toes curl in his shoes as the blond spoke.

“ _I'm a lot rougher than you give me credit for, Reyes. Maybe you'll learn that tonight._ ”

The words made Gabe suck in a breath and his arms slipped back to the wall, his blue suit jacket sliding off with the gesture. Soon, the white dress shirt and medal followed. Jack was shamelessly, eagerly undressing him. But Gabriel felt... Tired. Weak, almost, and the blond seemed to know it. All the time spent with Jack had honed them both quite well into knowing exactly what they both adored... And right now, Jack was pushing all of the right buttons- even the ones Gabe didn't want to admit he had. Gabe looked aside to the room beyond this one, eyes focusing momentarily on the bed waiting there for them.

“Jack...” Gabe started, but soon, that tie was given a small yank and that stopped Gabe in his tracks. _Oh, fuck._ “...Jack?” Gabe stammered, but Jack bit him again, making the other's knees grow weak. One of Jack's hands now moved down and latched onto one of his hands, bringing it forward and onto his own shirt, and invitation for Gabe to undress him. Wordlessly, the dark man accepted the offer, liking the way this was going, even if he was nervous.

“ _I'm not sure if I'm-_ ”

“ _Shut up, Gabriel. This doesn't require talking._ ” Jack insisted dominantly, shrugging away his unbuttoned shirt along with his coat. Then, his medal and tie were roughly discarded, lips trailing up to Gabe's mouth, taking him into a full, deep kiss and finally pulling away from the wall. They seemed to trip out of their shoes as the two meandered towards the bedroom. Gabe managed to get out of the tie finally, but it wasn't long before the door was slammed shut behind him, and soon, more kisses. If Gabriel wasn't drunk before, he surely felt like he was now. Nerves fired hotly through his entire body, barely aware that they were being moved until the back of his knees hit the bed. He stumbled backwards, now barefoot, and hot hands ran themselves firmly onto his chest, callused and strong. Jack leaned forward, using his weight to keep Gabriel still - not that he was fighting – while hastily unbuckling his belt and working his pants down. Fingernails bit tenderly into his flesh, making his vision go hazy with lust. Gabe may have stammered out a curse or two, but soon, there was a strong hand lightly placed against his throat. Gabe hadn't really been aware that he wanted that until just now- his cock certainly had no problem telling him that he wanted it. Lips had latched back onto his skin at some point, and now traced down his body, stopping at a nipple and teasing out a long, embarrassing moan. He could feel the blond chuckle hot breath against his skin as he worked further down. There was something about the cold air of the room coupled with Jack's intensely warm flesh that was itself exciting. Gabe couldn't tell what those goosebumps were from, in light of that fact. Blue eyes like gems flashed up at him and awarded him with a stunning smile.

“ _Careful, Gabe. Someone might think you're interested._ ” The blond echoed up at him, and Gabe's head fell back, a warm grin on his lips. He didn't need to look to know where Jack's lips went then. As always, the man found himself impressed by how skilled Jack seemed to be at something he'd had relatively little practice of...

… Though over a year of practice was probably fair enough, he added in hindsight.

Jack would prove that point as he took another inch of the thick man into his mouth, and then another, the hands now fastened onto Gabe's thighs. The dark man himself needed something- anything to hold onto, and so he slipped one of his hands down into the gorgeous golden hair while the other trailed up to fasten around one of the edges of the headboard. Alas, Morrison knew just how to twist him, and it was only a matter of minutes before he had Gabe writhing beneath him, back arching off the bed, curses slipping out of his lips, drawing him right to the brink of ecstasy. Then, the blond stopped and abruptly crawled forward, miraculously rid of his pants and now, Gabe could feel the full heat of his body as it rolled down against him. Lips once more found his own, and a hand floundered off to the side, toiling at an end table. Gabe already knew what was coming, but he writhed all the same.

“ _God damnit, Jack- I was so close-_ ”

“ _It'll make it better. Trust me._ ” He insisted in response, bright blue eyes meeting honey-brown stare at long last. “ _You can tell me to stop, Gabe... If you really don't want this..._ ”

“ _Christ... Jack... Just do it. Fuck-._ ” Gabe stammered, his cheeks more hot now than they had ever felt before. He was blushing furiously, but right now, the idea of the heavy blond Soldier holding him down and going to town on him was the only thing in his mind. He couldn't guarantee how long the feeling would last, or how he'd feel about it later. If Jack was going to get a chance to prove his point, tonight was that chance.

Jack didn't need any more provocation. He hadn't gotten _into_ anyone in months. Years? Right now, that didn't matter. Gabriel, hazy with alcohol and overloaded with endorphins, was in a strangely docile mood, and that surely wasn't going to go to waste. The paler man smiled and straightened up in the relative darkness that they laid in, giving Gabriel almost too much of an eyeful of his chest and the fine hair that lead all the way down to where their hips met. Then, light glinted off the lubricant bottle in Jack's hand. Gabe wanted to ask how long he'd had that, or if he'd been planning or-

No, Gabe realized with a wide smirk.

Jack obviously had that lube for _himself_. After all, Gabe couldn't be there all the time, surely the blond had other methods. Blue eyes seemed to catch Gabe's grin just as it happened and he murmured a muted, _“Shut up, Reyes,”_ before his hand disappeared between them, slickened. A second later, it was right where it needed to be, and Gabe tensed up almost instinctively.

“Shh.” Jack urged. “It'll be alright. Just give it a minute-”

Gabe said nothing, sucking in a breath, brows pinching somewhat as a finger traced over the outside, then dared to push a bit more firmly against the opening. Absently, his lips fell open and an exhale worked itself out of him nervously. Jack was smiling faintly- he knew it must have made Jack feel incredible, seeing him this way... Vulnerable, beneath him, so unkempt as it were. Undone and for once, not in control. Captain. Jack had looked up to Gabe now for so long, and he supposed, he still did. Gabriel was after all, still technically his superior, but they had put that all behind them now and it no longer mattered. The dark man had finally let down his walls around Jack and trusted him in ways he trusted no one else. Jack surely knew how much it must have taken for the powerful man to relinquish so much for this to happen. He smiled, leaning down and kissing Gabriel hotly on the lips as the finger eased in deeper, to the knuckle. A small sound fell out of Gabe, husky and deep, a grunt of sorts that lingered in his throat as Jack kissed him again. Deeper this time, until he found the tell-tale bump that was the other's prostate. He was rewarded with another, less controlled groan, one of surprise and lust.

Gabe's toes curled against the bedding and his thighs seemed to part a little further, shoulders rolling somewhat against the bedding as he almost seemed to struggle to get comfortable. Then, the finger hilted him, and his head fell back entirely and he exhaled breathily into the room.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Gabe seemed to curse a lot when he was aroused, and Jack always took the hushed words as a good sign. It wasn't long before another finger joined the first and worked him open. Now, Gabe's hands had moved, one fastening on the back of Jack's head, pulling him close so that their foreheads touched, needing to feel some semblance of control even if he truly had one. The other hand had arched up to the top of the bed and latched onto the top of the headboard, inadvertently putting his muscle on display for the blond who now panted along with him. Jack was eager and hard, evident by the way his thickened cock occasionally twitched against the inside of Gabe's thigh from how Jack leaned.

Finally, Jack had had enough. Gabe was as ready as he was ever going to be, and though he was close enough to climax, that wasn't the way Jack saw this going down. The Soldier shifted, moving his hand away and pressing his way further between the other's thighs, distracting the dark man with another kiss while positioning himself. Thighs slid up onto either side of the blond's hips, tight at first, but that was to be expected. Intentionally, the man was slow as he entered, careful and gentle in ways that Gabriel so often wasn't... Yet, Gabriel appreciated it, despite that he couldn't find the words to speak it just then. Their kiss broke only so that they could breathe, and a feverish moan slipped out of Jack, his brows knitting together somewhat as he exhaled heated breath against Gabe's neck.

“ _You're holding back,_ ” Gabe rumbled in that darker, sultry tone. It made blue eyes pop slightly as their stares met. Gabriel continued. “ _You said you were rougher than I thought... Guess you were wrong._ ” Gabe deliberately taunted the Soldier, bringing out that fight in him that he knew was just there, beneath the surface.

A very faint smile curled the corners of Morrison's lips.

Then, he bucked forward into Gabe, causing the other to gasp and cry out with the sudden, unexpected hilting. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting that, and admittedly, it hurt more than he had expected. For a moment, he glared at Jack, but he couldn't be angry. He had goaded the blond, and Jack had been on the receiving end far too many times of Gabe's far more harsh approach too many times. They smirked at each other, then kissed again before Jack started to pick up a more reasonable, more gentle pace. It was seconds before they were both moaning again, this time more freely, forehead's touching, breathing into one another. Eventually, Gabe's hands found purchase on Jack's shoulders instead, tightening there in much the same way his thighs tightened on his hips. Eyes shut, closing out the image of it for just a moment as his body gave in to the sensations overcoming him. Jack was holding him down; not terribly hard, or forcefully, but enough that if he tried to move, it would be difficult. That knowledge alone made him feel marginally vulnerable, causing a shudder to roll through his frame. Jack had moved back to Gabe's neck, leaving a dark hickey that he was sure he was going to have to hide for the next few days... And yet, part of him didn't want to hide it. It was almost as though he wanted them to see- and it seemed, so did Jack, or else he might not have put it so high up.

The bed began to knock against the wall, if faintly, but even faintly was enough to stir Gabe, and his hands dropped lower from Jack's shoulders to his lower back.

“ _Shh. They'll hear._ ” He pleas lustfully, quietly, but Jack groans down at him.

“ _So what? Let them hear. I don't care anymore._ ” The blond utters dominantly, stealing another kiss, and as if to emphasize his point, rutting into Gabe all that much harder, and louder for that matter. The moans that begin to peel out of him are embarrassing to him and make his cheeks flush even more. Then, one of Jack's hands makes its way back up to his throat and begins to tighten.

“ _Oh fuck- Jackie..._ ” Gabriel stammers heavily, his fingernails digging into the Soldier's lower back. Between them, his own length is hard and aching, occasionally massaged by the way Morrison's body rolls over and against it, pressing it tightly between them now and again, just enough to make the smallest amount of precum roll to the surface. Sweat begins to dot across Jack's shoulders and forehead and his pace quickens. It's clear that he's getting close, but Gabe isn't sure he'll even make it that far. The Soldier seems to see his struggle and smirks down at him.

“ _Need a pillow_?” he asks as he leans in to whisper into the man's ear. Gabriel can't even reply, but at the moment, a pillow to bite into or muffle his noises sounds wise. The idea is cut short however, as the man continues. “ _Too bad, Reyes. I want to hear this._ ” He says, deliberately bucking in seemingly as hard as he can, angling himself just enough to make Reyes lose his mind. His toes curl, and before he has a chance to stop himself, a string of curses roll out of him and he bites down hard on Jack's shoulder, thighs tensing up, brows pinched. Between them, his cock jerks and throbs with its final, needed release, spilling between them. A heavy shudder rolls through Gabe's frame as he finishes, and Jack is quick to follow, using the tightness of his body to push himself the last little bit before he's there. There's no question here, no debate on where the seed is going- Gabe doesn't even try to stop him, too exhausted by his own peak to think clearly let alone argue. The blond collapses on top of him, panting, arms loosely wrapping around him and beneath the pillow upon which his head rests.

There's something very intimate about this, Gabe realizes, more so than probably anything else that he's ever done with anyone else in his life. Sure, he had fucked Jack before, and he'd fucked other people, but this was different. This was giving up a piece of his pride and strength in a way he'd never done before. He was always so guarded and confident, always in his own comfort zone. Always, he was the one in control, calling the shots and deciding what would happen. He had never imagined he'd ever want anyone else to do that for him. Here, he'd taken a risk, a chance, trusting Jack in a way he'd never trusted anyone else. Only Jack could have made him feel like maybe it was safe... Maybe it could be _good_ not to be in control sometimes. Now, laying in the warm aftermath, Gabe meets Jack's tired stare with his own, a pleased, gentle smile on the blond's lips.

 

Gabe knew then that he didn't ever want to be with anyone else.

 

~

 

When Gabriel comes out of his meditation, the sunlight cuts through the tiny windows at the height of the cabin in small ribbons of gold. They're docking, he realizes as he moved absently to stand, but his mask slides away, creating something of a racket when he realizes how weak he still is. Sombra leans from where she sits and slips it up off the floor, her eyes roaming over the blackened bloodstains that have already begun to fade off of it. She hands it back as she looks at him and moves to stand.

“You gonna make it back anywhere?” She asks as the cargo door opens, letting them off.

“I'll be fine.” he rumbled back in his gravelly tones, turning towards the door.

“Gabriel,” Ana says as she approaches to leave the ship as well. “You'll be happy to know that I got in touch with the others on our way back. Angela will be waiting for you in the medbay.”

Gabriel says nothing in response, too exhausted to bother as he nods. It's easier to ghost when he's like this, as his coat struggles to keep him contained even with its tech installed. He lets his body lose its shape, and when he hungers like this, it feels a lot like letting down long hair, despite that he's never had long hair, its a relief that comes to him in a strange way.

 

Minutes later, he's arrived and hovers over a body that had been laid out for him behind a curtain. Angela has said that she will debrief him once he's had a chance to rest... Winston, apparently, also wants to talk. Presumably, about why he disobeyed direct orders in the first place. Gabriel has no interest in speaking to the ape, especially not now.

He begins to feed, holding himself aloft over the body, his hands all like wicked talons wrapping over the sides of the metal table and holding him steady. When the first body becomes a husk, a nurse arrives with another.

The wraith is half way through that one when the curtain beside him shudders and is abruptly shoved away by someone in a hospital bed.

Jack stares over at him, and Gabe is at first too involved to notice. Jack stares on as the shade feeds, a swarming mass of black with gleaming red eyes, a mouth that yawns open far further than it ever should, sometimes lacking definition entirely. The body beneath seems to shrink and wither as shadows seem to reach into the body, through it, and come back thicker and more solid than they were when they went in. Jack is sometimes reminded of tentacles when he sees them, but looks away when he realizes suddenly that those red eyes are primed upon him.

“Sorry.” Jack rasps out. There's bandaging around his shoulder and upper right arm, along with bandaging down on the lower left side of his chest, some stitches on his brow. Bruises are prevalent, some far darker and more black than others.

“Jack...” Reaper rasps as he looks over- and yet, he dares not draw close while he's feeding. Somehow, he feels a pull, like he's drawn towards the warmer, fresher body. Could it be that he was beginning to reject the bodies he was being given? Gabe didn't even want to dwell on the idea, not wanting to even consider what that could mean.

“I'll live.” The old soldier growls out. “The hell happened to you, Reyes? I heard you're in trouble.”

“ _I'll live._ ” Reaper replies sarcastically, head snapping back towards his meal as he resumes. “Sombra's alive. She'll live too.” he adds, finishing off with the last body and drawing aside the other curtain, making it clear that he's ready for another. Jack looks over again.

“So... This is how you have to do it now, is it?”

“ _More or less._ ”

“Is it... Bad?”

“The hell do you mean, Jack?”

“I mean... It... What's it like?”

“ _It's a corpse, Jackie. What the hell do you think it's like? Sure as hell isn't a pleasant walk in the park._ ”

“... You taste it?”

“ _No. Not exactly. I guess it's like getting fresh air when you've been suffocating, getting warm when you were cold, getting wet when you've been dry- all at the same time._ ”

“Does it hurt?” Jack asks as the body is brought in to Gabe. Once more, the wraith closes the curtain, leaving them more or less alone.

“ _At first. The first few inhales or so, I guess. Like growing pains. It hurts more to starve._ ”

“Could you eat normal food if you wanted to?”

But Gabriel has already started. His body needs this and craves whatever he can get out of these, and as he gets nearer to being done, his body becomes more and more solid, until he's kneeling there over the body, full attire donned. Slipping off the table, he straightens up and cranes his neck, rolling a shoulder to stretch his muscles. He reaches up, removing the still-stained mask. Beneath, he's returned to his far healthier look, with dark skin, hair, mostly normal eyes. The fangs are gone, along with the claws, and his extra arms keep themselves locked away as was expected. His voice had regained its proper strength.

“I could, I suppose, if I really wanted to... But eating doesn't do anything for me, Jack. It accomplishes nothing.”

“You don't seem to mind drinking.”

“Drinking serves other purposes.” Gabriel responds loosely, moving closer now to the edge of Jack's hospital bed, looking for unseen injuries. There are none, but Gabe's obviously curious as to what the hell happened. Jack looks down at himself, then away.

“Talk to Angela, Gabe. I've got to get some rest.”

“Suit yourself, Jack. Just figured you'd want some company.” Reaper murmurs as he passes the table, slipping through the curtain on the other side.

 

“Thanks, Gabe. Maybe later.” He hears the Soldier say. Gabe smiles faintly with his back to the other, then strides away to get himself, and his gear cleaned up before he goes to talk to anyone.

 

Hours later, Gabriel and Jesse sit in the conference room with Winston and Ana. The ape is anything but happy, but Gabriel barely tunes in. Something about compromising the mission, disobeying orders, putting others at risk, abandoning the base... _Blah blah blah._ It began to grate on Gabriel's nerves until finally he snapped. He stood, eyes livid.

“ _Look. Sombra is alive because of me. Reinhardt couldn't have gotten through all of that like I did, as quickly as I did- he wouldn't have even known how to look for her! And what exactly was Torbjorn going to do to help? Provide him even more armor? Build him a turret?_ ” His eyes snap towards Ana. “ _Amari is better at long range, and let's be honest, you only sent her so that she could make sure Fareeha was still alive as well. The fact of the matter is, if you had sent me and her, instead of the other two, you could have spared them to go after the gauntlet- the the gauntlet that Doomfist now has because YOU scared him off after he devastated Jack and Genji. He could have easily killed them! Widowmaker could have put a bullet in their heads just as easily- and you're lucky she didn't. Reinhardt could have protected them- THEY could have used the armor Torb offers, but you, instead, in your infinite wisdom, chose NOT to trust me, and opted to leave me here. That's an order that, if I had obeyed it, would have gotten Sombra killed!_ ”

“Yet, you would have obeyed it, if Jesse had not encouraged you.” Ana points out sourly.

“ _Jesse-_ ”

“Don't fight my battles, Reyes.” The cowboy speaks up, growling somewhat. He sags in his seat, arms crossing. “I did that because I know what he can do. You've all seen it. He's the stealthiest person we've got, he knows the most about Talon, and its bases, and how to navigate them. He knows them better than anyone else here, and he's been working with Sombra longer than we have- he would know her better than us, I'd guess. You might not trust him, but I do, and face the facts, Commander- if he didn't go, she'd be dead. No more informant.”

“Well we don't HAVE an informant anymore anyway do we!” The ape bellowed, not realizing how incredibly insensitive he just sounded. At once, Ana's head snapped towards him and his eyes popped. His hands became fists and he looked down. “I'm sorry- Olivia is an essential part of our team-”

 _Olivia?_ Gabriel had never heard her name until now. It made sense that Winston would know it. All the same, it infuriated Gabriel that he would regard the girl like that.

“ _Shut up, Commander._ ” Gabe snapped derisively. “She isn't just cattle to be thrown to the wolves. She isn't just some _tool_.” Gabe's eyes snapped to Ana. “She had a mother once. She had parents- people that cared about her and loved her. People she lost. She made Overwatch her home and braved Talon and all the monsters that worked there- myself included. You might do well to remember that when you try to imply that she's _expendable._ She's braver than any of you.” He hisses as he turns, meaning to head out.

“This meeting is NOT over!” Winston barked.

“ _Yes, it is._ ” Reaper growled.

“THIS ISN'T BLACKWATCH!” The gorilla howls, suddenly throwing himself in the way of the door, their eyes locking, and Gabriel shouts suddenly.

“NO, You're right! It isn't! Because if it _was,_ something would be getting DONE!” Then, the wraith becomes an impassable black cloud that explodes in Winston's face and ghosts _through_ him, through the door, and away towards his quarters.

 

Later, he and Jesse both were served grounded letters- no activity, no missions for a term which was, at the moment, 'TBD'. A few weeks, Gabe guessed, but he wouldn't know for sure. Gabriel decides to visit Jack in the medbay. Jack is asleep when he arrives, but Gabriel sits nearby, waiting quietly, massaging his temples and nurses come and go, occasionally checking the Soldier before moving on. Eventually, he stirs, and his hand shifts, reaching for something. It breaks Gabe out of his thoughts, and he spots a glass of water that Jack's reaching for. The shade moves to the opposite side of the bed, ghosting literally over the man as he reforms on the other side.

“Be still.” He says gently as he turns to help Jack sit up some in the hospital bed. The Soldier groans as he looks up at Gabe.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks with rasped words.

“I'm grounded. There isn't exactly a lot else I can do.”

“I'm not helpless, Reyes.”

“I don't care.” Gabe utters shortly as he reaches for the glass and extends it towards Jack, who takes it warmly. “You don't have to be helpless to get help, Jack.”

“Right...” The man utters, sipping the water finally. “So what's happening?”

“I'm grounded, as I said. Don't know for how long yet. Jesse too, I'd guess. Sombra's alive. I heard a tech in the hall say she's getting her wiring re-done... But her connection with Talon has ended. They found her out. They tried to test her, for the council. Wanted her to break Akande out herself, but she couldn't do it. They stole her code and managed to get him out themselves- or at least, disabled the prison locks. We suspect they might have another hacker working for them. No word on who. She also said that he released a few of the inmates with him. We might have to contend with those later. You need to do something about Winston-”

“ _What?_ Why? Why me?” Jack asks.

“He's out of line. He doesn't belong as commander. He doesn't know what he's doing.”

“He knows what he's doing, Gabe.”

“No Jack, he doesn't-”

“He just doesn't trust you get, Gabriel. And you don't respect him.”

“ _Should I?_ ”

“Yes!” The soldier rasps. “You might not remember it yet, but he's very intelligent. This base is home to him, more or less. He knows everything about the people here. They're chosen deliberately, including Katie.”

“He relies on you to do all the legwork for him. You do all the things that might get him in trouble while he commands the rest like peons.”

“Not everything, Gabe. Moreover, Winston doesn't really command me. I'm not part of Overwatch. I don't _have_ to obey him... But I do because I trust these teams. I care about these people.”

“ _Then you should be leading them._ ”

“The world doesn't even know I'm alive, Gabe- either of us. I have to keep anonymous, for now.”

“Ana said we had only three months to defeat Talon before they try to shut us down again.”

“They've extended that, since Doomfist's escape. They realize that they will need us-”

“ _But we failed._ ”

“And who else is going to do it, Gabe? Military? We're the only ones who can go where we need to go more or less without boundaries. He can't hide from us, but he can hide from governments. Give Winston time. He'll trust you, sooner or later... But less if you stop respecting his orders.”

“ _I'm not technically Overwatch either, Jack_.”

“No, but you're operating with them. You can't just be a rogue inside the community. If he gives you an order, he needs the reliability of knowing you'll obey it.”

As much as Gabe wanted to argue, he knew Jack was right. How could Winston make solid decisions, let alone trust him to do his job, if he barely obeyed the orders given to him in the first place. It was good that he had gone after Sombra himself, but... A life was at stake then. He couldn't do that regularly.

He didn't want to apologize either.

“I'll let you rest.” Gabe says as he moves to stand.

“I just woke up, Gabe. I've been resting.” Jack replies, and Gabe looks down to him.

“ _Do you want me to stay?_ ” Reaper asks. For a long moment the other is quiet before he tilts his head somewhat.

“You're grounded. You don't have to go anywhere yet.”

Gabriel smiles faintly, and resumes his seat.

Ultimately he puts on an old show that they watch from their place across from a holo-tele on the wall, laughing and talking how a few hours before Gabriel retires for the evening.

 

The following morning, a flashing light and a morning alarm stirs him from his sleep. The holo-screen across from his bed switches to the day plan the moment he switches off the alarm. Stretching in front of the screen, he reads it. This morning, nine o'clock, Mission Debrief with Winston... Were they still going on about the mission he wasn't suppose to be on? Gabriel sighed and got dressed.

When he arrived he was a few minutes early, coffee in hand, spiked, as was expected. He anticipated an underwhelming meeting, but at least he was here. Minutes later, Ana arrived with Winston and Genji. The Cyborg was sporting a few new pieces of his metal shell that were too shiny to be original. They'd clearly been replaced. A few others showed scuffs and signs of battle, superficial damages only that Overwatch hadn't replaced. Why was he here? What did he have to do with-

“We're not here to discuss the Sombra mission.” Winston says suddenly as he comes to the front of the table. Ana and Genji take their seats as he continues. “Yesterday made me think quite a lot. It's true that without your help, Sombra may have died in that building... Perhaps I should have trusted you. In hindsight, you were right for the job, but I was hesitant to put you back into a Talon environment after what happened last time... I am sorry for that.” The Gorilla says. “But we have a job to do. We're running out of time, especially now that Akande has broken free. We need to know what they're planning. It's more important now than ever to also find out how much of a hand they had in the fall of Overwatch. If we can clear your name, and Jack's- if we can solve the riddle of what happened, the sooner we can put you both back to proper, legal use. I can't afford to keep you pent up here.-”

“I thought you said I was grounded.” Gabriel rumbles as his arms cross, coffee deposited on the table.

“You are, technically. We can't have you leaving the base of your own volition. We can't have you making your own decisions on what we're doing... But I will be taking your intel under advisement... As I do with Morrison. You will help me make decisions in whatever way you can when it regards Talon. Your input is integral, especially now, and even I have to admit that your new... Talents... Make you indispensable. I'm sending you three to a base on the Western Coast of Canada. We were able to find a marker that pointed their ship heading in that direction after we failed to keep the Gauntlet. That is where Akande is going, and we need to know why.”

“Whitehorse.” Reyes echoed in.

“Yes. Our sources say that the base at Whitehorse is a place of significance.”

“I wouldn't call it significant.” Gabe uttered. “It's remote. A bitter, barren, frozen place. They never fully repaired it after the wars. It left a lot of broken buildings behind. Talon has re-purposed them into a base. It isn't so much large or special, but it's safe. From the ground and air, it's almost impervious. You have to reach the base from the ground. There's an inlet four miles away, a tunnel that buries directly into the ground and straight there. From ground scans, it looks just like another railway. It blends in well with everything else around it, making it hard to find.”

“But you know where it is?” Winston asked.

“Yes. I've been there, twice.”

“Do you think Talon would take the gauntlet there?”

“I can't say. Maybe, if they think it's damaged. Maybe in an effort to repair it. The remoteness of the base gives them time and privacy. They're able to let down their guard a bit more...”

“Alright. Then you'll go there. You leave tomorrow morning... There's something else.”

“Hm?” Gabriel asks, coffee up at his lips as he looks across the surface of it.

“You're taking Carter with you.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Jaelen Carter-”

“I know who she is- why is she going?” Gabe sounds concerned.

“She needs to get used to running ops with us. I'm not sending her inside, but she'll be on the ship with Ana. As you said, Ana is best at long range. Carter is better up close. You and Genji will be going inside to find what you can. I want to remind you to look for any information you can. Anything that's relevant to here, now, the fist, or anything that happened before. Is this understood?”

Gabe glances at the other two, who have nodded, before nodding himself. “Good. Dismissed.”

The man moves to stand and makes his way out, already going over what he's going to look for when he arrives. He also seeks out Jaelen, to inform her of the next days mission.

“What! I can handle it! They can send me in with you guys... I can be stealthy!” She insists, but Gabe shakes his head.

“You need to get use to the process first. You need to see how things work.”

“You've barely done any missions with 'em!” She protests.

“I've done other missions, and I've been doing them for years,-”

“ _You don't remember half of them!_ ”

“... I was in the Military before Overwatch, I was in SE- _You know what. I don't have to explain this shit to you,_ ” Reaper growls in a frustrated tone. “You're going, and you're staying on the ship, for now. Think of it like initiation.” he says before he turns away and slinks off to his own quarters.

 

He finds her again later for a training session, and spends a few more hours with Jack, who's making every attempt to get out of bed- unsuccessfully. The nurses, and Ana, make sure he doesn't go anywhere before he's healed.

Before Gabriel leaves, Jack urges him to be careful on the mission. It's such a small gesture, but it makes him smile all the same. Jack had said that they shouldn't do this- that they weren't the same people, that they didn't have all the information...

… But Jack seemed pretty invested all the same.

 

The ride there the following day is uneventful and boring, and Gabriel sleeps through most of it. Italy to Canada is not a short trip regardless which route they take, and before the end of it, Genji sits next to Gabriel, nudging him awake. Today, the Cyborg's outer armor is a different hue- black and blue, obviously made for the more stealthy atmosphere of their mission. The shade twitches and glances over towards the Cyborg, who stares up towards the front of the cabin, where Ana and Jay are sitting. Jaelen's mouth is moving a hundred miles an hour.

“ _She's been talking her ear off for about an hour and a half now, Gabriel. You should distract her before Amari puts her to sleep._ ”

A dry laugh rolls out of Gabe.

“It's good for her.” he replies. “I think she needs a role model like Ana. A strong woman who had been through hell and back. She didn't really know about her at first, but it seems like she's learning her well enough.”

“Carter sees _you_ as her roll model, Gabriel. I don't think she's going to change that any time soon.”

“I am not someone anyone should follow, Genji.”

The ninja looks over at him.

“You sound like my brother. Like him, you place too much guilt on yourself. You must learn to forgive yourself and the things you've done.”

“Easier said, Shimada. I have ruined people's lives. Thousands of them.”

“You have also saved lives. Hundreds of thousands.”

“And Jesse?” Gabe asks, suddenly looking his way, eyes glinting with the red lights of the cabin as he meet's Genji's stare. “There was a young man with potential- he had a chance to do good things and get his life back on track. But, I pulled him into Blackwatch, didn't I? Now he's... what, exactly? He's not exactly Overwatch, but Blackwatch doesn't exist anymore- a globally condemned organization, the highest thing he's ever amounted to... The prodigy of a man that the world condemned as well- and a man they might eventually find out survived the explosion to become a council member of the terrorist organization now wracking the world with atrocities. Who is Jesse McCree now in light of what I've made of him?”

“... Jesse is family to you, Gabriel. I understand. But you can be redeemed, and when you are, he will be as well... But there is something else... Something I think you've overlooked.”

“Oh? And what's that?”

“You care very much how you appear to the world, and what they think of you. You care about your presentation and your intentions and all that you've managed, yourself... But I do not think Jesse cares about the world that way. I don't think he cares what they think of him as much as you do. He knows who he is, and who he isn't. He knows that he took a stand when things in Blackwatch went wrong. He knows who you were before all of that. Jesse is only in the Overwatch now for a few reasons.”

“A paycheck.” Gabe deduced.

“Perhaps, but something more. You. He wants to know the truth as much as everyone else. He wanted to see if it was possible to bring you back. When Sombra confirmed your identity, only then did he agree to join us. Besides... He already had something that we needed.”

“Oh?”

Genji fell quiet for a moment and then sighed, looking across the cabin.

“Jesse has fallen in love with my brother.”

“Oh... Yeah. I may have discovered that.”

“I'm not quite sure how it happened at first. I'm not even really sure how they met or where.”

“It doesn't seem to me that they see each other often.” Gabe laughed gently, but for Genji, there was nothing humorous about it.

“We recruited him with the hope of also recruiting Hanzo, in the hopes to keep him out of Talon's hands. Jesse agreed to help, but when Hanzo discovered his involvement with Overwatch, things went south. I'm not quite sure where they're at now, I just know that Jesse is still working on the case.”

“Is that where he goes every few weeks- those missions?”

“Ah, I don't know the details, but yes, something like that. Hanzo has gone missing, Gabriel. No one knows where he is right now. We think that Jesse and Myself might be the only ones capable of finding him, and if possible, bringing him back here.”

“And why does Overwatch need him so badly? Why not let him go?”

“And risk him falling into Talon's hands, or the hands of another gang, or getting some foolish notion to try and rebuild our family's legacy? I don't want to think about what might happen if the Shimada clan was rebuilt and then allies with Talon, or even what remains of Deadlock, or any other crime rings, Gabriel. Nothing good. But Hanzo is not a man who will accept authority easily. We're not going to capture him and make him join us. He must be convinced, and in order to be convinced, he must be found.”

“I see...” Gabe trailed off as Jaelen approached them.

“Finally awake, ey? About damn time. Don't think I didn't hear you boys yammering over here. The Captain says we're almost there. You sure you don't want to stay behind on the ship instead?”

“I'm sure. Besides, if someone does come after the ship, Ana will need you to back her up. You're better at close range than she is. Did you bring your pistols?”

“'Course I did. What you take me for, Gabi?”

“And the knuckles?” He asked, and she beamed, surprised that he even remembered those. Pride swells in her voice.

“Never leave home without em, ey. We'll be fine. Never been to east Canada before anyway. Maybe I'll take a look around-”

“Unlikely.” Ana voices from up front, standing up. “Up here, it's always cold, always snowed over, so unless you plan on taking a stride into fifteen-degree weather, I'd say you're better off staying on the ship.”

“ _Ah, Damn._ Looks like it's tetris-hero for me then.” Jay muses as she fishes out her phone, the holo on it lighting up with the familiar, now ancient game.

 

The ship lands in what can easily be considered a dune of snow, and the reflective tech on the outside of the ship easily adapts to the white of the terrain, making it almost invisible to anyone who might past over or nearby. The door opens with a hiss of pressurized air and a blast of cold wind that chills the to the bone, but he and Genji depart quickly. There's a set of buildings similar to an old town not far from them, and Gabe knows the underground tunnel to be located near there. He leads the way, noticeably keeping away from any of the main open areas and exclusively taking alleyways to get anywhere.

When they find the tunnel, it's little more than a manhole in the ground that looks like it might connect to the sewer.

“You're sure this is it?” The cyborg asks, and Gabriel, mask now on, looks his way without a response. He leans and opens the manhole. It's cramped and dark, but Genji soon realized that this was likely the only way to get into the tunnel unseen. Inside, there seems to be no power of any kind, making it seem abandoned, as it is meant to. This seems to be a recurring theme for Talon, and Gabe's used to it. He has no trouble finding his way in the dark, and a HUD inside Genji's mask illuminates the way for him. The shape of the tunnel seems to suggest that it might have once been a mine of some kind, with beams that have been refurbished with metal over the decades. Almost no one uses this entrance anymore, Reaper explains, so much so that almost everyone has forgotten that it connects to the main tunnel. Luckily, they won't have to walk that far to the base itself. Eventually, this tunnel reached what seemed to be a dead end, but another trap door at their feet allows them down, and it opens into the ceiling of a room. Gabe lands quietly, his shadows creating something of a cloud to disguise them as he looks for cameras.

“Any surveillance?” he asks the ninja beside him, but the man shakes his head.

“Nothing that my scanners can detect. Once inside, we should split up. I think we will cover more ground.”

“Agreed.”

“... Keep the comms on, Gabriel.” Genji advises, remembering what Ana had said had happened last time. Gabriel looks down and ultimately nods.

“ _Understood._ ”

 

They split up, as expected, neither of them saying anything into the comms to avoid giving themselves away. Ana only very occasionally piped in to give them feedback of some kind. Once they'd ventured in a bit deeper, it became blatantly obvious that this place was not abandoned, not even slightly. If anything it seemed like it was on lock down, which supported the theory that the gauntlet might be here... Which brought to question: if it was, did they dare try to retrieve it without any more backup, or let it go and risk it moving again to an unknown location?

Gabriel began to scour the rooms as he had done before, one by one, carefully avoiding passing patrols and workers as they moved. There were doctors here. More than he would have expected, really, and fewer guards than he anticipated. More often than not, he used the vents to navigate, making his way into empty rooms and searching there. It was all more of the same: reports of movement, intelligence that Overwatch already knew. There were reports on possible new recruits, paperwork that Gabriel had seen already himself, and he dared not touch any of the wired devices in fear of giving himself away.

Eventually, he arrived at what appeared to be a small engineering wing, hoping to find the Gauntlet here. There were still three engineers in the place, working on devices that he couldn't quite place. Remaining in the vents as he was, he spotted something oddly familiar.

It was like a vial, currently empty, but nearby, a vat of a blue substance sat waiting in a tub. The vial itself was fitted into a socket of a metal device whose 6 legs were folded up around it. The engineer appears to be making more of them. Gabriel knew at once what they were: Venom Mines. Why would they make them here, and not at a main base?

The answer was obvious.

They were making them because she was here.

There were doctors everywhere, and suddenly, things become more clear.

 

Talon hadn't shipped the gauntlet here, but something nearly as precious to them:

 

Widowmaker herself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope you're enjoying the story! As always please let me know if you find any grammatical errors.
> 
> Sub-gabe not your schitck? Sorry, no need to tell me about that. The majority of readers here voted that they liked it, so *shrug*
> 
> Also! I have something of a fanclub going on discord now. It promotes Not only this story, but my art and future youtube videos and future fanfictions as well!
> 
> There are a few rules, please see the pinned messages when you arrive.  
> You must 18 or older to join, Minors are not allowed. Please be aware that the population will be mixed. Not everyone will be Readers. Some are Clients or friends/fans from other games or avenues.  
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> when you arrive, please let me know you're a reader, and Ill assign your role.  
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> 
> Update: Guys, I really need some time to reflect on this story and what I'm doing with it, and to sort some things going on in my real life right now. I'm going to be taking a three week break to try and recuperate.
> 
> I'm sorry, I know you guys really look forward to and enjoy my updates, but it's been brought to my attention that in my effort to produce for you, I'm not writing as well as I could be, so I'm going to rectify that.
> 
> Thank you for your patience.


	31. Hallucinate

_Amélie ._ His friend, whether he cared to admit it or not. A woman he had saved and then subsequently abandoned after her dreadful fall from the balcony; a fight that he should have won with her. Something that he felt Overwatch had taken from him- but now, knew that it had been the Russians all along... And could he blame them? He, Amélie and all of Talon had done hideous things to the world, and the people in it. Some would say they deserved nothing less than death.

She was an enemy now to him and his kin, and he had been told she was broken beyond repair. Not the former woman he knew, and certainly not his friend.

...And yet... He could not stop himself from the desire to go after her. To find her. He had to see her again, and see what it was she was doing here. _How_ she was doing.

 

If Amélie was here, which Gabriel was now certain she must be, they must be trying to rehabilitate her from the state she's fallen into. Overwatch had given him strict orders... But, suddenly, his motive changed. Perhaps wisely, he did not inform the others of how his search had just altered itself. They did not need to know about the little detour he was going to take. He began to look for her any place that he could think, and minutes ticked on, feeling like hours. The infirmary turned up empty, along with the other rooms he suspected she might be in. Even the interrogation chambers were left unattended and vacant. There was only one place left to look now, and wordlessly, he began heading towards what he knew to be the sleeping chambers. One after another, he searched, coming up dry at every turn. Genji called in over the comms, advising that he had not yet found anything. Gabriel was about to give up his own search when suddenly... He had found her.

In a dark room that most reminded him of a crypt as opposed to a bedroom, her clothing had been draped across the floor, shed as if she had no care for it any longer- the unwanted molt of a venomous arachnid. Even her precious rifle sat unceremoniously on a table, unattended and forgotten... The bed sat made, untouched, and only a chair sat slightly out from the table, any indication that she'd been sitting there. A holo-screen sat blankly on a distant wall, so unused that a layer of dust had collected on it. But of all these things, what struck Gabriel the most odd about the room was the way bottles had been scattered and discarded like so much refuse, most of them empty or half gone, some outright shattered against the now stained, dark grey wallpaper.

It didn't seem to him like she was being rehabilitated at all. If she was, why wouldn't they have gotten this under control? Why wouldn't they have stopped this intake and offered her something to help stabilize her? _Why would they leave her like this?_

It was then that the order to abandon her ran rampantly through Reaper's mind, reminding him of how little Talon had cared for her, perhaps both of them, in those moments. Rage began to pool up in his blood, gaining speed until he could feel it burning in the back of his throat and behind his eyes. Suffering down the urge to scream in fury, he swept his eyes across the room once more, looking for the Widow herself.

Was the answer simply that she was more dangerous this way? Could it be something so heinous and wicked, as to let her suffer for their own, immoral goals? It had to be. Hell, for all he knew, the gauntlet _was_ here somewhere, and she was merely here to protect it. Even Akande could be here, if he thought about it. If he looked hard enough, he was sure he could find the man... Not that he wanted to. Sure, he could take Akande in a fight, especially without the fist, but he was skilled, and Gabe would surely be too injured to fight off everyone who might come to his aid. Especially not if Widowmaker was one of those who came to aid him. It was not a risk he could take.

His search lead him to the closed bathroom door, indicated only by the faint path of clothing and the way the dust here didn't seem quite so heavy. Beneath the door, a crack revealed nothing, no lights, not even a dim, atmospheric glow to suggest anyone was within... But where else could she be? Ominous as it was, he slipped in through the crack, his ghostly figure dark and almost impossible to see. After all, the darkness was an element he was well versed in, comfortable in.

And there she was. For a moment, Gabriel was taken aback. Her body was still, damp from the tub, pale blue as always, every muscle relaxed somehow more than the usual, taut, stern way she presented herself. Her eyes were open, focused distantly on some far, impossibly dark spec somewhere on the opposite side of the tub from where she reclined. An arm draped loosely over her chest, as if trying to ward away some invisible chill that he knew she couldn't feel. Amelie had stopped having normal feelings years ago, when they first met. No cold. No heat... Almost no pain at all, and no fear. Anger and hate were the only things she seemed to keep intact. Now, she didn't even seem to have those. It was as though the water she laid in had leeched it away from her. She looked... Dead.

Instinctively, he rushed forward, but the sound of his own boot hitting the ground shocked him into utter, complete stillness. Red gleamed out from the faint lights in his armor, illuminating the woman barely. He realized with a startling fear that he had become almost entirely solid, now, a corporeal figure standing not a foot away from her just outside the tub. He froze, like a deer in the headlights.

Slowly, her attention diverted itself from the wall, and her pale gilded eyes drifted towards him, and when they did, their stare met... Gabe's breathing caught in his chest, so sure that she'd say something, bark or scream, sound some kind of alarm, maybe even attack him.

But none of that happened. In fact she barely even seemed to notice. She wasn't startled, and didn't even bother to cover herself up for some sense of decency. Her lips parted faintly and she sucked in a breath as she looked at him. The way she seemed so resigned, so defeated and weak made it obvious that she did not think he was real. Faint words that slipped past her pale, chapped lips were barely caught on his ears, seeming to confirm what he suspected. Her words were broken and displaced, spaced incorrectly, occasionally dropping into french words he couldn't interpret. Finally, she said something that he could latch onto. Something he doubted he'd forget.

“ _Stupid... Stupid girl- I am such a stupid girl._ ” Her eyes had fastened hard on the pits of his mask. “ _And he was just a stupid mistake. Back to haunt me again. They'll up the dosage, Amelie... Don't tell them. They'll up the dose... Again._ ”

Gabriel wanted to choke on the bile in his throat. Rage poured through him so completely, so entirely that it threatened to swallow him whole. But this was not the place, not the time for the fight that he intended to bring to Talon for this hideousness. And perhaps then he can forgive himself for leaving her behind to this apparent madness.

The shade then allowed himself to fade, trying to comprehend what it was he had just seen and heard. A dosage? Amélie was clearly having hallucinations, but how, and why? And why of him? What was going on with her, really? Was no one able to help her, or was that what Talon was trying to do here? Had the fall damaged her mind, beyond all repair actually? He had to know. Like a thick fog, the man wraithed away, retreating back into the vents, saying nothing, and Ana's comm chirped into his ear suddenly.

“Report.” But Gabriel cannot yet bring himself to answer. If he gives away his outrage, they will know he was here, that he saw her... That she spoke to him. It would violate so much of their trust in him, and that was not a risk he could take.

“Reaper?” Ana repeats, sounding slightly more concerned. Gabriel makes sure he is a significant space from everyone before he replies, managing if barely to keep his emotions in check... His words are careful when they come, devoid of the anger that surges through him.

“ _Nothing. No evidence of the gauntlet... It isn't safe. If the gauntlet is here, it's with Akande. We can't very well take on Akande with an entire Talon hub to back him up. There is nothing of value here without Sombra's help._ ”

“Understood. Return to the ship.”

Gabriel can't bring himself to tell them about Widowmaker... The guilt he feels for leaving her behind is massive. If there was a way, could he teleport her out and save her? Could he bring her back to Angela and see if she could be aided? She was gone, the others kept saying, but if that was true, why did she have hallucinations of him?

… Was she more attached than he had realized?

Gabriel suddenly began to wonder.

Had she somehow developed feelings for him? Was it even possible for Widowmaker to develop actual feelings for anyone? And if she had, what did that mean to him? He said nothing all the way back to the ship, in his mind going over all that had happened. The way that she had given up those few sparse memories she had to him, and how she went to visit Gerard's grave every year. It was only a few months away now, and he had to wonder if she would be going again. She had helped him, or wanted to, when no one else could give him a chance. She seemed to understand that there was some humanity left in Reaper, even when it was rumored that she had none left herself. And now, that may very well be true. But... Reaper had changed. He had learned now who he was, and what had happened, at least mostly, between then and now... Moreover, he had rediscovered Jack, and despite how unwise it probably was... He had fallen back in love with Jack- _hard._ Gabe knew that, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Jack wouldn't have allowed any advances if he didn't at least slightly feel the same. What he felt for Jack was... Unparalleled. Amélie had been a good friend to him, but perhaps to her, he had seemed like more. Had he become some kind of _possibility_ for her?

Minutes later, both he an Genji emerged from the tunnels, entirely undetected, and he let his thoughts drift off, debating how much he cared to detail to Overwatch about their mission, but nothing had presented itself that was worth any value... At least nothing he wanted to divulge. He hadn't found any of the evidence he was looking for, nor any sign of the Gauntlet, nor Akande himself, or any proof that either of the two were here. Admittedly, he hadn't even really looked for proof of what Talon had done to Overwatch. All of that had gone right out the window when it was revealed that Amélie might be there. He couldn't bring himself to give up on her the way so many others had... The way they had originally given up on him, too, until Angela had given him a chance.

Once safely inside the ship, he removed his mask, dropping his hood as a very bored looking Jaelen popped a bubble of gum almost derisively in his direction.

“It's been two and a half hours, Gents. Are all our missions gonna be borin' as ass?” She uttered. Both Genji and Gabriel ignored her for the moment as Ana approached them, eyes shifting between them as she expected a report. Gabe decided that starting first would make him seem less suspicious.

“I have a reason to believe they may be using this facility as a rehabilitation unit. Doctors everywhere, engineers abound... I think that Akande might still be inside, though I did not find him myself. It's possible that Widowmaker is here as well. If we return, we should do so with considerably more back up. Still... I saw nothing that might suggest the gauntlet is damaged. We should wait until Sombra is repaired, and see what hacking she can do to give us more answers.”

“Good.” The healer says, turning away. Jaelen seems less than impressed and groans something about getting on the road, but as Gabe comes to sit nearby her, she seems to catch something about him that seems off.

“What're you-” She starts, but he gestures her short with a hand.

“Just tired, Carter. Leave it be.” Using her last name was surely enough to make her drop the topic, and it worked well enough. She grunts and shrugs down beside him, leaning her weight heavily into his shoulder as she resumes playing some kind of game on her phone. Gabe knows that the flight back is long, and meditating seems to be a good way of passing the time. Jay gives him a minor glance as he pops one of Angela's pills down his throat and manages to swallow it down dry. The girl seems to question whether or not it's a good idea with just a look, and Gabe rolls his eyes, reaching over and pulling the drawstrings on her jacket tight just to annoy her. She laughs slightly before straightening them and returns to the game at hand. Gabe lets his mind drift off, and it takes a good while before the meditation takes hold. Faintly, he can hear Genji talking to Ana, but the two do their best not to be intrusive.

 

~

 

Recruitment is a drag. It isn't exactly a fun job, and takes far more paperwork than Gabriel ever wanted to deal with, and yet, he has to do it. There's a box of paperwork beside his desk, and two more up at the front of the room waiting to be shipped out, completed. The desk itself, a long rectangular work of art made of oak, inscribed with an iconic image from one of their successful battles, one of the fights that had made public headlines. On top of that, a layer of thick glass protects the surface. He leans over his desk, staring down at a pile of applications. There's a set of three tall windows behind him, arched at their top with X-shaped supports, silhouetting him over his desk. The view beyond, a gorgeous look into the forest, several stories up. The sun cuts through the trees in beams of gold and white, illuminating the leaf-litter far below. The office itself is two stories, with the desk directly across from the door, and on either side of the room, two staircases lead up onto the second level, which acts as a balcony to the room. In some respects, it looks like a library, with books on shelves, photographs small awards, medals, record that have been made of Overwatch and its operatives achievements. At the front of the room, directly above the door, the balcony stares out a massive window that overlooks the entire grounds. It's grown a little bit since its beginnings. There's an indoor training facility now, and a pool that looks a hell of a lot like a greenhouse with its glass walls. Across a grassy plot there's a building obviously made for science, and just adjacent to that, the lodging facility, where everyone sleeps and eats. It's a nice place, with all the best technology the world can offer. But all of this takes people to run... People that Gabriel now needs to hire. There's Scientists, doctors, food service people... Gabriel continues to stare at the paperwork, sliding a few applications to the side as he thumbs through the categories.

“I can't be doing all this, Jack. I have more pressing matters. Hire us a few delegates or... _Hell_. Secretaries. Anything. These service applications aren't something I can help with. I know exactly nothing about... Cryo-engineers or bio-dome food techs... What even is an _Agricultural Consultant?_ Why do we need them?”

“I'll get someone on it, Gabe.” Jack says as he slides behind Gabe's desk and puts his hands on the other's shoulders, offering a brief massage. Gabe is tense, as is usual these days. “You need to relax. You're not going to get any proper work done if you keep pushing yourself like this... The omnics are done, Gabe... The war is over. We won. We can relax, at least a little bit.”

“That's the exact kind of attitude that lands people in deep shit, Jack. We can't afford to let our guard down... Besides, the UN is demanding that I have a hand in personally selecting some of our operatives...” He trails off as the massage hits a tense nerve and makes him groan.

“Alright... Then let's do this. Let's go through these, and determine which ones can be handed to someone else, and which ones we should investigate personally. If we find someone with real potential, we'll handle those cases ourselves. Alright? Then we can get back to work on repairing the world... The Envirodomes are a new concept, Gabe. I read up on them. If we place enough of them, we can help feed hundreds of thousands of those displaced by the war. I was told they had very good results on the moon. Food is just one of the problems the crisis offered. We now also have to rebuild our cities, and if these Rebel omnics decide not to be rebels anymore... We're going to have to do something about them, too... For now, just relax. You should go and see a doctor, maybe a chiropractor... Or maybe Ana for all of this. I'm sure you're not suppose to be this tense.” Jack muses, and though it was mostly a joke, Gabe had been seriously considering it for a month or two now. However, he smiled and wheeled on the blond, his hand catching his side and tugging him around so that Jack's lower back pressed against the desk and they stare at each other, face to face. Gabriel leans in, forcing Jack to lean back slightly, and the blond's hands shift back to catch himself on the desk, scattering the papers.

“There are _other_ remedies for being too tense, Jack.” The dark man said sensually, a small, devious smile working itself onto his lips.

“ _Oh, is there?_ ” Jack asked coyly, smirking back. “Surely not right here, not on the _Commander's_ desk, in _his_ office.”

“Oh, but there is.” Gabe teased back, suddenly looping his arms around the soldier and leaning forward into an aggressive kiss. Jack moaned into it, eagerly returning the gesture and dropping his hand to Gabe's hips. Seconds later, Gabe had lifted him onto the desk itself, ignoring the paperwork there- that was no longer his concern. His hands moved forward and down Jack's front to his belt, and the blond startled somewhat.

“Are we really doing this here- now? Gabe... _Someone might walk in._ ”

“ _Let them._ ” Rasped the dark commander as he bit down on Jack's neck, causing him to suddenly groan out with unexpected lust.

“ _Gabe..._ ” Jack tried to protest, but as of recently, sex seemed to be one of the few things that actually relieved the other. Even now, months after the SEP had ended, Gabriel still wakes up on a nightly basis with dreams, terrors that flicker through his mind and stir him awake to a clammy, cold sweat... Jack may have thought that it was easy for Gabriel to let all those people die before- that just somehow, Gabe was just heartless enough to do what had to be done, and knew how to achieve a victory... But he knew now that was wrong. Gabe felt the weight of all those deaths. All the ones he knew he had causes himself...

… But what of the deaths of the omnics? Did Gabe feel those?

Jack decided he wouldn't ask... No one knew who the omnics were right now, or if they were real, or if they could even be trusted. But he knew he could trust Gabe, and knew very well who this man was. Smiling into the kiss, he let Gabriel do with him as he wanted, knowing it would soothe his inner wounds for at least a little while.

Even if it had to happen right there, on the desk.

 

Or in the shower two days later, or almost every night after that.

 

Gabriel and Jack had become an inseparable couple that everyone now knew and recognized, and almost no one dared to come between that.

 

Almost no one.

Until the day that the UN decided that Jack would make a better Strike Commander than Gabriel would, only a short while after the defeat of the omnics.

 

The news came as a shock to everyone, and as Gabe stood in the office packing up what was considered _his things,_ Jack emerged. He was wearing a royal blue utility coat with a high collar, adorned with all of his medals, and he stood at the door to the office as he entered, looking Gabriel's way with something akin to regret.

“I- Look. Gabe... I didn't ask for this-”

“I know you didn't, Jack. Don't worry about it. I said don't worry about it.”

“You said _'Don't worry about it, Morrison,'_ and then stormed out of the meeting, Gabriel.” Jack said, slowly approaching.

“Yeah well, I didn't bust my ass and almost die every time to come in second place- Jack.”

“I know! Gabe. Look. I didn't... It isn't like... There was no application. They didn't ask me if I wanted this. It wasn't like SEP. I didn't have a choice. I didn't even get to ask why-”

“You don't _need_ to ask why, Jackie.” Gabe said, trying to sound soothing, but he was hurt. He wasn't upset with the blond, but it was hard to put the things in his office away knowing that this had been his office at the time of the victory... That the victory had been, in a large way, because of his orders... The UN seemed to think that Jack had contributed more than he had, and Gabe wasn't sure how to feel about that. They had all worked together equally, and there was only _one_ thing different between them that could have made the difference. “The answer is obvious, isn't it?” He said, looking back over at Jack as the man now stood across from him on the other side of the desk. Gabe placed a picture into the cardboard box- it was a picture of them, kissing at the victory ceremony. Jack, with his perfect blonde hair, sapphire eyes, pale skin. “You're white, Jackie. You're the blond, stereotypical Captain-America-Hero that everyone in this world wants.”

“Archaic comparisons aren't going to help you here, Gabe. The world has moved beyond all that-”

“Has it, Jack? _Has it?_ Tell me then- why is it that the richest neighborhoods are being rebuilt first? Why is it that, when we sit at the tables at the UN, there are countries listed there whose voices we have never heard? They don't have money, Jack, and even now, _even now_ , people like me are passed over for people with more... Favorable genes.”

“So that's it then?” Jack asks, seeming offended. “You think that they just gave me this because I'm white and no other reason? You think that I didn't work to get here?”

“ _I didn't say that,_ ” Gabe protested, but Jack cut him off.

“No. You didn't. You just said that if I wasn't white, they wouldn't have picked me for this. That says a hell of a lot about how much you think I contributed.” He barked, brows knitting.

“Jackie-” Gabe said, immediately regretting his words. “Look- no. I'm sorry.”

“No, I get it, Gabe... I finally _earned_ something- why can't you just be proud of that? No one asked for this. I didn't want it, I-”

“JACK!” Gabe barked. “For fucks sake. I _am_ happy, alright? I am. I'm not the kind of man who wants a whole lot of face time with the public. I don't _want_ to be the head of the organization- I'm glad it's you. But... I'm also sorry that it's you. It isn't going to be easy. Civilians are ruthlessly critical, Jack... I'm just not sure...”

But Jack had reached out, into the box, and plucked out the picture Gabe had just put in there... He pulled it back out and set it back down on the desk, causing Gabe to pause.

“Not this one,” The blond said. “That's staying right there...” His eyes fixated back on Gabriel as the man continued, his anger ebbing somewhat.

“I just wanted my own contributions, my own strengths to be recognized. It wasn't that I thought you did less... I'm sorry, Jack... I'm just afraid that the public will eat you alive... I guess I figured I could handle it. It feels somehow like everything I did doesn't matter now.”

Jack looked down, gently shaking his head. “I can hack it, Gabe. If omnics didn't take me down, a little bit of scrutiny isn't going to leave any new scars. I don't think my race has as much do to with it... Maybe it does, and if it did, I'm sorry. But, I think the public is why they chose me. As you said, the world wants a hero, Gabe. You don't want to be that face. While you were doing what needed to be done, I was soothing the pain that they felt in the aftermath. The UN... They think your methods are too... Ah...”

“Bloody.” Gabe uttered looking back to his things. “They don't want the face of a man who does what I do to run an organization that was made to save people. I thought you said you didn't have a chance to ask why?”

“I didn't ask them why they chose me, Gabe. I asked them why _not_ you. You're more experienced in it than I am. You have better strategy than anyone else I know... You're just a little bit... Ruthless at times... And they don't want that to be the word that familiarizes itself with Overwatch.”

“So they put you in charge to keep me in check, is that it?” Gabe growls. “And what happens to me now, Jack? Do I just go back home to California and be complacent working a desk job in some call center somewhere-?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Gabriel. The UN knows just as well as I do that you have skills that Overwatch needs if we want to succeed.” He reaches in to his coat then and draws out a folded envelope. On the front, someone had written his name. “ They would have given you this themselves if you hadn't left the meeting. They're giving you something that is more suited to your style. Something that should make you a lot happier. Something that will allow you to choose operatives that you need to get work done that the rest of us can't do... Sort of a secret service of Overwatch. They're calling it _Blackwatch._ ”

“Blackwatch.” Gabe echoed as he reaches out and accepts the envelope. Inside was a new pin with a new insignia. Circular with a red band on the inner edge, and inside, something like the head or skull of a dragon in white.

“You'll be a commander, Gabriel. Another hand to me, like Ana is. Us three will consult with one another just the same as we have been. I... I know it seems like a downgrade, Gabriel.”

“It does.” Gabe admits, watching as Jack skirts around the desk to stand beside him.

“But it's everything you wanted. No more annoying paperwork, no more public hassle... You can do what you need, when you need. I can take care of the rest with Ana... I wouldn't trust _anyone_ else with this kind of power, Gabe. In some ways, you'll have even more power than I do. My hands are somewhat tied in the things I'll be allowed to do, but yours won't... I'm trusting you to make good use of that power. Can you do that?” The blond asks, and when he does, Gabe gets a flash back to them two as they stand in Walcott's office, with Jack in tears as Gabe tries to convince him to become a captain. Has it all lead up to this? Have they now somehow switched places, and Jack has succeeded him?

Jack seems to see that in Gabe's eyes, and he looks down, plucking another picture from the box, another picture of them.

“We're in this together, Gabriel... I love you... And I don't like what this position was doing to you. You are so tense all the time. So miserable... The nightmares have only gotten worse. I think you need to find some help. More professional help... Please tell me that you will.”

“Jack... I'm fine.”

“You're _not_ fine, Gabe. You wake up every night and every night I have to calm you back down. Sometimes it doesn't even work... Please. Promise me.” The blond presses, and Gabriel can tell that if he doesn't say yes, Jack might get emotional. He's been worried about Gabe for a while now.

“I promise.” Gabe offers finally, and Jack smiles some, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss lingers for a good long moment before Gabe finally looks away, smiling faintly. “You're such a goddamn sap, Morrison.”

“Yeah... Well. Stop packing up all your shit like an emo-kid kicked out of a party, Gabe. Half of these pictures are mine, too. Why don't you go down to the main lobby. Someone was looking for you. Someone who's going to help us.” Jack says, gently shouldering his way between Gabe and the box of items, and he begins unpacking them.

 

Gabriel heads down to the lobby as instructed, pinning the new badge onto his coat chest as the elevator doors open. He's greeted by a woman who looks like she's barely out of her teens, with pristine blonde hair that seems paler than it ought to be. Her skin is like alabaster, and her eyes a deeper blue somehow even more so than Jack's. Her smile is wide and warm, immediately inviting and soothing. She steps forward as she sees him.

 

“Ah! What an honor to meet you, Commander Reyes. Tales of your bravery and victory are world renowned even to Switzerland!” She's excited as she steps forward, extending her hand. “My name is Doctor Angela Ziegler. Lets talk shall we? I am told there are many ways in which you and I can help one another, yes? Lets get started.”

 

~

 

The mission leaves the wraith feeling hollow and cold. He hates what he's seen, and he can't afford to tell anyone. So much was at stake here, and if they failed to trust him now, it could very well ruin his chances here at Overwatch. The memories, and getting them back, seem less and less important now as his mission seems to outline itself in clear detail. Once again, he's here to fight for revenge. Once again, it's the driving force behind his motions. No, it's true that he didn't know the hand that Talon had played in turning him into what he was. It's obvious that he had had something of it from SEP... A detail now that maybe only he knows. But does it matter? Does it matter, he asks himself, how he got this way? He has these abilities now... Reaper has become part of who he is, whether he cares to admit it or not. Jack was a pleasant reminder in this place of who he used to be... But Amélie was living proof of what Talon was capable of, and now, they had Doomfist to help them.

 

Overwatch was running out of time.

He focused his days now on training with Jaelen harder than ever.

“You need to be ready for this.” he'd say to her as she repeated another push-up, drenched in sweat. “Whatever we come against isn't going to go easy on you. You can't always rely on your guns to have your back. Sometimes you'll have to be creative.”

She'd usually murmur some incoherent curse under her breath before redoubling her efforts. They'd find each other out in the gardens and talk almost ceaselessly about the world and the way it used to be.

“It wasn't a bad place.” She mused one afternoon as they laid in the sun, soaking up what light they could, their work-out attire fresh with a few new sweat stains and their skin patterned with damp patches of perspiration. “Before the Omnium collapsed, I mean. It was a nice city. Just went to hell, I guess. Like everyone there.”

“Oh?” he asked, tipping a water bottle up to his face and letting it run through and over his hair, soaking it. It was slightly longer now, a true undercut, shaved sides offering some relief from the heat, no hoodie for now. He'd gotten comfortable enough with this crowd that he no longer bothered to hide himself. The extra arms were a familiar sight to everyone nowadays, as was the paling of his skin, the growing of his claws as he went a week or so without feeding. Still, he felt almost normal, finally. It was a thing that he was sure he'd lost forever, gone with whatever mortality he had, but now, some sense of his humanity had finally returned. “And what about you? What's your story, Jaelen?”

“Psh.” She scoffs at him. “Check my file. I'm not getting into that.”

“Don't have access to your file.” The man confesses with a shrug, sitting up a little. “I just know what you've told me.”

“Yeah, well. Probably better it stays that way.” She groans, sitting up and taking a sip from her own drink, her eyes landing on something across the way. “Heads up, lover-boy.” She cants her head towards the pathway that circles the dome they're in. The older soldier, Jack, jogs along the path, finally out of bed and healed up, as it were. Gabriel smiles some, but says nothing. Jaelen glances his way and purses her lips. “What's going on there anyway? You haven't told me anything since... Since a while.”

“Nothing's _going on_.” Gabriel rebukes a little too quickly. It gives him away, and her features twitch into a smile.

“ _Bullshit._ Come on, Gabi. Spill the beans!” She says, turning towards him. Their stares meet for a long moment before his attention snaps away.

“Nothing-”

“ _Oh come on_. Don't pull that mysterious B.S with me. You went to visit him every day he was in the medbay! You can't tell me there isn't-”

“It'd gross you out anyway.” He interrupts. She suddenly pauses and then abruptly giggles, body trembling as she falls backwards onto the grass.

“ _Oh my god_. You're gross. Gross old men. What the hell happened?!”

“You don't-”

“I _want_ to know! This is juicy gossip-”

“ _You're not telling a soul._ ” Reaper rumbles back suddenly in warning, and she rolls over, laughing as she giggles.

“ _Ooooooh, Reaper has a crush!_ ” She teases relentlessly, and she swears she can see his cheeks darken with embarrassment.

“ _Stop it!_ ” He barks, reaching over and stealing her drink from her with one of those ghosted hands, since his is now empty. Besides, hers is coconut, and it's a fitting punishment for her embarrassing him. The girl doesn't even seem to care, laughing and letting him take it as she covers her face with her hand. He'd lost sight of Jack now, who had in all likelihood, jogged on.

“Oh my god. Gabi. That's brilliant, that is. Come on, wont you tell me-”

“ _We kissed._ ” He uttered finally under his breath, and Jay seemed to gasp before suddenly pushing herself up and leaning in.

“ _What! Oh my god! How?! When?!_ ” she demanded, leaning forward and pressing her elbows onto her knees, eyes glittering almost as she looked at him.

“ _Jesus._ It doesn't matter, Jay. A little while ago.”

“Today!?”

“No-”

“Yesterday.”

“No!” he rebuked, exasperated. “A few days. A week maybe. Before the mission.”

“Oh!” She said, suddenly moving forward and leaning into him, deliberately teasing him. “ _Was it romantic? Was there moonlight and stars?_ ” She asked, mocking a swoon, tipping her head into his shoulder. It was a ruse to get her drink back, which she stole from his grasp once he'd taken a sip, nearly making him choke on it. One of the black, ethereal hands gave her a small shove, solid for just a moment before becoming a wisp of smoke again.

“Shut it.” He growled, still embarrassed. “It wasn't anything.”

“Oh it was _something,_ I'm sure of it.”

“Just a silly little thing, in the training room. Then... afterwards.”

“Afterwards!? What happened afterwards!?”

“Nothing. I was dumb.”

“... Oh come on, Gabi.” She snorted, entirely unimpressed. “You're never dumb.”

Gabriel sighed some and shrugged. “Don't worry about it, Jaelen. It's probably not going anywhere anyway. Just the remnant of an old memory. We have bigger things to deal with now anyway. There's no room for it in Overwatch right now.” he insisted. Her smile seemed to soften a little sadly. The woman seemed to understand on some level how much Gabriel wanted this... But she could also understand where he was coming from.

“You saw something, didn't you?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” he asks, leaning back in the grass somewhat, his fingers sliding through the thin green blades and curling somewhat, a yawn rolling out of him as he let the sun bake him a little more.

“You haven't been right since the mission.” She points out, shrugging. “Secretive, like. You're keeping something from them, aren't you?”

He glances over at her at once, impressed and also a little terrified at how insightful she is. He wants to deny it, but she'd already seen his expression, and she already knows she's right. He huffs faintly and looks away again.

“It isn't anything that impacts anyone or has any weight on anything. It's nothing we can do anything about, either.”

“What did you see?” She presses.

“Drop it.” Reaper growls, and she takes the warning, sighing and finishing off her drink. Moving to stand, she smiles at him somewhat, knowing she isn't getting any further with her pressing.

“Well, I guess it's time for me to go and see what there is for me to do. There's a rumor that you and me are going on more missions.” Gabe glances up at her, and slowly comes to stand as well, mostly ghosting to a rise, a habit of moving that makes him unique, and it's obvious the way that she doesn't gawk that she's been around him too much to be even a little phased by it anymore.

“Is there? Good. I haven't got the mind to sit here idle anymore.” He replies, and she dips her head somewhat.

“Alright, well. Ill see you later I guess.” She replies, then turns away. He offers a word of goodbye before taking one last glance around the dome for Jack, who has disappeared. Eventually, he wanders off towards his own room as well.

Upon arriving there, he found just as Jay had, that there were appointments waiting for him: Angela was requesting to see him the following day for a fresh feeding, and he was to be debriefed for another mission not too terribly long after that.

 

Japan.

It was not a place that Gabriel had been often in his life, but from what he did remember, it was as lively as ever. Genji sat across from him in the bay of the drop ship, and Jesse was nearby, hat down over his face, sleeping through most of the trip.

“Remind me what we're doing here again?” Gabe rumbled from beneath his hood. It was decided that it was better for him to go in tactical gear, because at least that way, he could keep his true identity hidden, at least until it mattered, and a new sight of Reaper, if they managed to be caught somehow, was easier to deal with than dealing with the sighting of a dead man. The goal of course, was not to be spotted at all.

“...Agent McCree will be leaving us as soon as we land. His goal is to find my brother, and attempt to stop him before Talon catches up with him. The rumor is that Talon will meet with him here in the attempts to recruit him... I do not think that my brother is foolish enough to accept such a plan... But...”

“...But Talon is manipulative and cruel.” Gabriel finished for Genji, his head tilting. “They've seen something they want, and he has said no to them too many times before. Amelie surely wasn't given a choice when they took her... I... don't think I was, either. You think they're here to capture him.” He deduced, and Genji nodded.

“And what about us?” Jesse suddenly interrupted, apparently awake. “Do you _really_ think Hanzo's going to let them take him without a fight? We could get caught in the crossfire. We both know he sure as hell don't wanna see my face here- or yours. He's made his stance real fuckin' clear.” Jesse's on edge, and Reyes can hear the pain in the cowboy's voice. However he and Hanzo ended, it wasn't good.

“We are _not_ here to capture him, Jesse. We are here to stop them from taking him, and to stop as many innocent civilians from getting hurt in the process.”

“So after _all_ this fuckin' hassle, I'm suppose to just walk up to him, say, ' _hey darlin'_ ' _an' then just let him walk right back out of my life!?_ You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, Genji- I'd be lucky if he didn't try to kill me first.”

“...I know this must be hard for you, but like it or not, his affection for you is a weakness we must use if we hope to keep him safe-”

“ _Weakness, my ass-_ ”

“My point is that you have an advantage, Jesse!” It was the first time that Gabriel could remember ever hearing Genji shout. “Do you think this is _any_ easier for me? Do you think that I _don't_ want to bring him back to Overwatch-”

“YOU had trainin' to deal with your pain, Genji!” McCree was now on his feet, shouting as well. “An well, I ain't! I ain't ready for this, goddamnit!”

“ _But he is MY brother! I watched him KILL me, Je-”_

“Gentlemen.” Reyes said calmly as he rose to his feet, carefully putting himself between the two, his eyes meeting theirs as they stood only a few feet from each other. It was clear that they had had arguments similar to this before, and there was probably a reason he didn't often see Genji and Jesse in the same place. Their eyes mirrored the pain they felt. Both wanted to do something to help Hanzo, and neither of them wanted to die. Jesse seemed more interested in leaving Hanzo alone, as presumably, that was what the elder Shimada wanted, but Genji wanted to convert Hanzo, and bring him to a place of good... Hanzo, obviously, had decided to remain a lone wolf, which no one agreed with. Not even Talon, who were suppose to be here today.

“The drop zone is in sight.” Called a pilot from up front. Gabriel turned his eyes back to Jesse, who had backed off. He exhaled a deep sigh and looked away, fierce anger in his stare. He straightened his hat and prepared himself to go. For the first time since Gabe's return, Jesse was wearing all black today, something that struck a deep memory in Gabe's mind...

 

Something from Blackwatch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back guys! I hope you had a great halloween!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and let me know if you find any errors in spelling and whatnot.  
> Glad to be back!
> 
> Friday's big reveal of the new hero gave me TONS of new lore to work with, which.. consequently, forced me to rewrite some stuff, but I worked with it pretty nicely I think, and so I hope you're looking forward to that in the next few chapters!


	32. Help

~

 

It was the holidays, and Gabriel knew it by the way that brilliant multicolored lights danced across the rooftops of every building on the Overwatch base. Snow drifted down in a steady sheet of white, causing workers to dance and laugh through it as they shuffled between buildings. In a courtyard between all the buildings, someone had set up a big tree, and people collected along side of it with cups of hot coco and coffee, or various other beverages that offered small curtains of steam. Gabriel stood inside Jack's office, on the high balcony overlooking the yard. Behind him, some distance away at his desk, the Strike Commander discussed official business with someone, for the moment leaving the Blackwatch Commander to his own thoughts as he looked down over the lot. Finally, after a few words and the shut of the door, he heard Jack's step as the man approached him. Arms came around him from behind and soft lips pressed onto the side of Gabe's cheek. Gabriel flinched only slightly in surprise, but looked his way finally, a smile blooming onto his features.

“Jumpy today, Gabe? You alright?”

“Mmm. I'm fine.” Gabriel replied smoothly. “The snow's new, I guess.”

“Still not used to the cold?”

“It's better than the scorching California heat.” The man uttered in reply.

“We should go... Back to my quarters.” Jack offered in a sultry tone, his hand sweeping down Gabe's front, teasing at the zipper of his grey hoodie.

“I can't. That Deadlock boy is waiting for me.”

“Now? Gabe... It's already eight.”

“Blackwatch doesn't sleep, Jackie. We're nocturnal, remember? He'll be waking up soon if my boys didn't already wake him up.” Jack seemed to sigh, head canting so that it leaned against Gabe's temple. He was exhausted, not only from the demanding work he did, but with Gabe's increasingly bizarre hours, and the cryptic way he offered his replies.

“Alright... Well at least wake me up when you come home tonight, alright?”

“You need your rest.” Gabe reminded him quickly.

“Yes, but I need you, too, Gabe. I haven't seen much of you-”

“There is work to be done, Jack... You agreed to take this job. No one said it would be easy.” Reyes reminded, and Jack drew back only slightly, meeting the Blackwatch Commander's chestnut stare. His own eyes saddened, but he noded somewhat firmly, shortly.

“... You're right, Gabe... I.. Uh. I'll see you when I do, then...” He started to pull away, heading downstairs. “I love you.” He said, and Gabe glanced over his shoulder finally.

“I love you, too, Jack.” He replied. He waited then for Morrison to be gone before slipping downstairs himself and striding off towards where Jesse McCree was being held for recruitment.

 

As he walked, he couldn't help but hear a whisper... It was tiny and barely there- something spoken between two associates standing outside the office as Gabriel locked up.

“ _What's he doing here? Commander Morrison just left. Is he even allowed to be in that office without the Commander? Why doesn't he have his own office?”_

Gabriel brushed off the comments and turns away, pretending not to have heard. People were entitled to their opinions after all, and surely there had to be at least a few people who liked having Jack as Commander... Most of them, in fact.

 

The Underwing is hardly a comforting thing to call the Blackwatch domain, but it's one that he and his other Blackwatch operatives have begun to use almost endearingly. Moreover, it had a simplistic yet intimidating name that suited them all. Blackwatch wasn't a comforting organization, so it made sense for it to have a name that deterred outsiders. The Underwing was just another wing of the Overwatch base, but it was underground, hence its name, and most often, a somewhat dark, reclusive area. Top secret, of course, as were everyone involved. Blackwatch was a secret sector, after all, and that was probably why this, as opposed to the new headquarters being built in Switzerland, remained Blackwatch's favored location. It was why he and Jack were so often here. A containment deep within the facility was used for both prisoners and new recruits, and he knew that Jesse was in one of them currently. After their initial meeting, Jesse had agreed to come along and get initiated, but until he could be trusted, he was under surveillance. After all, they couldn't risk one of Deadlock's own getting out and running back to them, perhaps unaware that almost everyone he had known there had been killed during the initial attack in which Jesse had been taken.

Gabriel began to hum a tune as he wandered through the halls, which seemed to rial some of the prisoners from their slumber into a loud, roaring, hissing cacophony. _The underbelly of the beast,_ Gabriel thought with a small, devilish smile as he strode through the hall, a security baton in left hand clicking and dragging against some of the cell doors, insighting even more rage from whoever remained within.

 _“Pain, without love.”_ He chimed faintly.

Blackwatch, his true home. A place where, as Jack said, he could do whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. Whatever the world needed him to do, down here in the dark, bloody confines of the Underwing, he could do it without consequence, without question or repercussion. It made everything so much easier, and it made a difference.

“ _Pain, I can't get enough.”_

His steps stopped at Jesse's door, and he clicked it open with a key, sliding the baton away. When he stepped inside, Jesse sat on the corner of his bunk, thumbing through a magazine. He looked up, meeting Gabriel's stare. Gabe's right arm stretched out, setting down a box on the small square table beside the door.

“Are you ready, Recruit?”

“What's that?” Jesse asked as he closed the magazine and moved to stand.

“Your new gear.” Gabriel said, canting his head. “And you'll remember to call me Commander from this point out. Understood?”

“Understood... Commander.” Jesse replied shortly, moving forward and sliding the box towards himself. His fingers slid over the box, hooking under the edge of the folded lid and lifting. Within, a full set of black gear waited for him. Gabriel has obviously taken note of his style and offered up a serape and hat both in a similar style to what Jesse had on before, but of course, armor completed the look, along with a pair of new boots.

“High heels?” Jesse asked as he lifted one of them, raising a brow at Gabe.

“Not as high as it looks. Only an inch. It's made to help you aim-”

“ _My aim's jus' fuckin' fine._ ” Jesse rebuked quickly.

“They've got _spurs_ on them, Cadet.” Gabriel growled. The teen huffed, giving one of the spurs a small spin, as if testing their worth.

“ _Fine._ But I don't want no comments on 'em.”

“You won't get any. Just try not to break your ankle, princess. Then they might talk.” Gabe smirked, and Jesse gave the man a glare.

“What do I gotta do now?” He asked.

“Change.” Gabe ordered. “I'll be waiting upstairs. When you're done, you'll report to me, and I'll go over all the basics. You're going to tell me everything about Deadlock, as you agreed.”

“... Right.” Jesse replied. He wasn't looking forward to that part. Turning traitor on people wasn't something he did often, but if it was true that Deadlock had given him up to save a few of their own skins, and if this might keep him out of prison... If it meant that some day, he could go back and give his stepdad what he deserved... If it could save his mother, he'd do it.

 

Gabriel waited as he said, upstairs. It was true, Gabriel had no official office. Having an office was proof that he, and his division existed. Sure, there was paperwork on them, but even that was carefully locked up in a place no one would ever find it, somewhere far under ground, in a hole that very few people had they keys to. This facility was merely meant to be an off-site base once Switzerland's HQ was up and running. Jack had already been there multiple times with Ana to oversee the new installation. Gabriel had seen it once, and much preferred the dark, forested location of the Underwing. Instead of an office, Gabriel had this, the equivalent of a conference room equipped with a table, dark grey walls, mirrors along one side, and lit wall sconces. The table itself was long and rectangle-shaped, undoubtedly made of oak. Into the center of it, Blackwatch's logo had been carved in. The edges of the table too had all been ornately chiseled with a craftman's hand with victorian-baroque style flourishes that looked like they'd be a nightmare to clean. There was a screen on the long wall into the oval room in which this table rested, opposite the mirrors, making the room perfect for debriefing and making it feel larger at the same time. Gabriel sat at the head of the table with McCree's file, still small and thin at the moment, and then beside it, a clean note pad upon which rested a pen.

He looked up from the file and closed it quietly as McCree entered, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. Gabriel's smile was short and fleeting.

“The gear looks good on you. Glad it fits, anyway.”

“They'll do.” The teen replied smartly, tipping his new hat somewhat. “Seems to be missing somethin' though.”

“...Your weapon.” Gabe deduced in seconds. “Don't worry. You'll be getting a new one, as promised.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet. Not before you've been officially initiated. You'll get your weapon when you start Cadet training.”

“When will that be, then?”

“Patience, Cowboy. Sooner than you think, but not tonight. That's all that matters.” Gabriel insisted with a sigh, then looking down at the gunslinger's file. “Why don't we start with the night my boys pulled you in, hm? Tell me what you were doing, and what was going on there. Everything.”

Jesse tensed visibly in his chair, hands tightening in on themselves as fingertips pushed into his palms. He recalled the hazey memories and spoke them as they came to him.

“It was a Deadlock initiation ceremony. More of a... Glorified party, I guess. More blood involved. I wasn't being initiated, I'd already been there for a few years by the time you guys arrived. They had some new folks. It always starts the same way. One of the bosses comes in, makes some speech about fresh blood, and needing to test their grit. The recruits are put through a ringer of questioning, mostly to test their background, if the bosses think it might matter. They're usually given a hypothetical sort of question, like a... A 'what if' type question to judge their character. How moral they were, or loyal, or survivalist. That sort of thing. There's no real categories, but the gang likes to think of it that way. The way you answer determines how much the rest of the gang is going to trust you. Loyalists always rose through the ranks fastest. They were usually a good shot, or real fuckin strong. These people were murderers, through and through. They didn't care who had to die if it meant that Deadlock was going to be better off. Moral folks were usually stuck to grunt work, or they simply weren't allowed in if the bosses thought they were too work to get shit done. Morals didn't really serve any place in Deadlock, but some people were there for some sort of justice. They wanted something that the law couldn't get them. Survivalists were usually seen as potential traitors, but useful people. Scouts. People in it for their own gain. They were usually treated with caution. There were a lot of liars though. Made it hard to know who was who.”

“So.. You were a Moral, then.” Gabe replied, shrugging as he looked back at him. Jesse laughed gently, but Gabe continued before the Gunslinger could reply. “Tell me more.”

“Ah... Well. After the questioning, they move on to the test. A simple brawl. No deaths, nothin' like that, but it's usually a bad sign if you pass out. If you're still awake after that, they bring out one of their prisoners... Usually someone who's offended Deadlock in some way. Someone who betrayed them or got in their way. If they ain't used in the ritual, they're sent away somewhere to be dealt with. The order's real simple. Execute them. They let you choose how you wanna do it. The way you choose teaches them more about you. If you can't do it, you don't get in. If you do, then you gotta take the blood pact and the oath. Then they tattoo you.”

“Tell me about the blood pact. How do they do that?”

“A cut on the hand and a hand shake- in front of everyone. They show everyone your hand. They make you cut it yourself. Everyone sees you get your tattoo. Then, they send you on your way and you start doin' work.”

“Fascinating.” Gabriel replied, making a few notes. “Anything about the oath I should know?”

“Nothing... Real special. Just to be loyal, obey orders. Accept any repercussions. That sort of thing. Just what you'd expect, I'd guess.”

“Alright, and what about us? Where did Blackwatch come in?”

“Right after the questioning. No one got to do their oaths that night- I mean. Technically, they would have. The 'Watch took out the boss. I saw him go down from where I was sitting across the room. A real good sniper shot. When he fell, there was hysteria. Everyone panicked. The recruits bolted, suddenly not wanting to be associated. No one wanted to be caught by the cops. They ran for the doors... But we realized it wasn't cops real soon.”

“Oh? And how's that?” Gabe asked. Jesse looked up, his eyes wide like he was remembering the night as if it was happening again in front of him.

“Three of them burst in through the windows. It was an old, shoddy bar on the outskirts of town.”

“I remember the place, Jesse, just tell me what you saw.”

“Well they broke through the windows and I saw a guy's head roll. There were gunshots and I ducked down. I managed to crawl beneath the bar as the chaos was goin' on. Cops, see, they would have said something. They would have surrounded the place and given some kinda warnin'. They'd have had helicopters and loud speakers... And I don't reckon they'd have killed anyone on the spot.”

Gabriel laughs. It was a small, haunting sound. Jesse paused, but when he realized the Commander didn't have anything to say, he continued.

“Eventually it stopped. There were bodies and blood everywhere. I know a bunch of ours escaped out back- I heard the shouting as you guys stopped them. Then I heard the door just... Just kick open... You walked in, looked around I guess until you saw me sitting there, curled up.”

“Right.” Gabriel replied, his head tilting. “And then you begged me not to kill you, too. I remembered some footage. Saw some of your work, McCree- if that's even your name. You're a good shot, and I knew we could put you to use, if I could convince you. Seems I have, at least so far. Are you ready to do some bad things for the good of the world?” Gabriel asked, not a hiccup in his words. There was no lie about what they did here. Jesse would need to know what he was getting into.

Jesse shrugged.

“I guess that's what got me into this anyway,” and as he finishes his words, Gabriel stood up, a sign that Jesse should stand too. As he does, Gabe tipped his head.

“Good. I'll send you now to get properly signed in. They'll take you to your new quarters. For safety, you'll be required to have a surveillance detail with you until we think you're safe. You'll spend a month or so in training before they start sending you on test missions... Don't make me regret this, Jesse. You don't know what I passed up to be here.”

Jesse slowly noded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Jesse turned to go, but something stopped him as he headed out.

“But Commander Reyes, Sir. You were wrong about one thing.”

“Oh?”

“I'm not a Moral. I wasn't no Loyalist either. I was just lookin' for a place to survive... Left my morals at the door when I walked out on my folks. One of these days my Stepdad's goin' to pay for all the hell he's put me and mine through. I'm gonna find a way, one of these days. You best not forget it.”

Gabriel chuckled gently at the warning.

“I'm counting on it, McCree. Drive like that is what got me here. I think you'll do well, if you're smart and fall in line.”

Then, the Cowboy exited and was gone. Gabriel jotted down a few more notes before he slid them into the boy's file and moved to head out as well.

 

Over the next few months, Jesse would prove to be one of the most promising recruits Gabe had. His aim improved somehow even further, and he began taking lessons from some of the more seasoned shooters- Ana among them. It was around then that he learned Deadeye, a trick that no one else in their entire company, even the Commanders themselves, knew how to do. It made Jesse a force to be reckoned with among the other Blackwatch Operatives. In no time at all, he could be seen almost always at Gabe's side, something of a right hand. For a brief, fleeting moment, Jack had even become concerned. He wasn't sure, even now, if Jesse could be trusted...

But with the increasing rumors among the halls, Gabriel wasn't even sure if Jack could be trusted either. These rumors made their way all the way to the new headquarters in Switzerland, where Jack and Gabe began to spend a bit more time, against Gabe's preference.

 

_It's about time someone got something done. Something that isn't just killing._

_They should have just chosen Jack all along._

 

Gabriel was a man who had no time for other people's opinions, and he trusted Jesse to get the jobs done that were assigned to him. And, he did, too. Jack had become increasingly stressed by his work load. Ana and Gabriel helped where they could, but it proved that rebuilding the world after the crisis had been anything but easy, especially with Deadlock and other gangs reaping the benefits of the chaos. Jesse began to see Gabriel as a model to follow and a brother to hear out his concerns. Someone who actually had his best interests in mind, despite the bloody path they walked.

 

“My name is Moira O'Deorain.” Said the woman who entered the room. Gabe sat in a chair across from her in a chair that was clearly meant to be comfortable, but he looked anything but.

“I know who you are.” He uttered, cutting her short as he looked her over. A gaunt woman with a lithe seeming frame, hair like a flame in bright red. She was dressed as one would expect a scientist to, with a white coat, and pastel blouse, khaki pants. “You've stirred a lot of controversy over the last few weeks, Moira. Some people would say I'm wasting my time with you.”

“But you agreed to meet me all the same, didn't you?”

“I did.”

“Against the advise of your superior, I'd guess.” She ventured with a small smile. Gabriel looked down a little.

“I have no superior, Moira. I do not need permission to meet with you.” Jack had made him promise to find help anyway. Jack didn't know about the incident with Val. He didn't know about the black clusters like soot that had saved Gabe's life now several times... And Angela, despite how gifted she was, Gabriel wasn't sure he trusted her with it. She was close to Jack and Ana. She followed their orders, and Gabriel didn't want yet another thing being taken away from him. So, when Moira had become an international news story, he had taken interest almost immediately. Now, here she was, looking for work, more or less.

“Of course, Commander... I am to understand you are having issues with stress, and... Ah... Nightmares?” She asks.

“Details I hadn't given you yet, Doctor. You do your research well, it seems.”

“It's important to know every detail about my patients in order to have lasting results. Wouldn't you agree, Commander Reyes?”

“I'm not a scientist.” he reminded. “But I do want results. This is something between us. I do not want Jack, Ana, or Angela to be troubled by this. I will not be telling them about the intricacies of what you will do for me. I'll tell them that you're working for Blackwatch, and that it should remain quiet. I'll put you to work with Angela, to see what good you can both do...” He pauses, then meets her stare. “But between us? The work we do will remain quiet. Is that understood?” And the woman smiled brightly and leaned forward, her hands folding together.

“You need not worry, Reyes. My medicines are fairly new, but they have results, I promise you. We'll find a way to remedy your pain. Can we start with you telling me about the dreams? And the stress- have you had any outbursts?” She asked, and as she does, Gabriel leaned back in his seat somewhat. The woman was straightforward and to the point, wasting no time trying to help him. It's a quality that he liked.

“Mostly when I sleep. It's... Ah...” He felt odd, opening up like this to someone he'd never met. Moira looked down as the Commander struggled to find the proper words.

“... Don't worry, Commander Reyes. I don't suppose that it will mean much to someone who has been through what you have, but if it's any consolation, this is entirely normal. You don't know me, and I don't know you. At least, not beyond what the media has told us. Why don't you start by telling me about your upbringing. Where you're from, and how you came to join the SEP? Why not tell me about how you got to where you are now?” She asked.

“I thought you did your research?” He replied cryptically, and she smirked, giggling some under her breath. “I may have caught a few rumors on my way in, I'm afraid. Nothing more. They say that you struggle sleeping... And that you never sleep alone.” She mused, and her suggestive smile was indicative of what she'd heard. Gabriel wanted to blush, but formality keeps him stone-faced and cold. This was business and nothing more. Eventually, he opened up to her, hoping for the answers he needed.

He told her all of it. About the warm summer days, about running around playgrounds with his siblings. About watching Henrique go off to war and come home in a bag. He talked to her about how his family slowly fell apart, about the death of his Grandfather and Mother, and how his own father had gotten more and more distant. Then, he talked about the war, which he struggled with, along with his relationship with Morrison, which he admitted, had begun to suffer in light of all of the work they were both doing.

“You don't feel as though he deserves the role?” She asked finally as he vented some of his frustrations.

“No- No!” he stammered. “It isn't that at all. He's good at it. He's meant for it... I guess I just thought that I did good work too. No one appreciated that. No one seemed to care or try to understand what I went through for us to achieve what we did. None of it was easy. We all had to make hard decisions... And, I mean, sure, I guess I made a few bad calls... But at the end of the day, the Omnics were defeated. We prevailed. We were all stronger because of what we went through.”

She smiled faintly.

“Don't worry, Gabriel. You're strong. I know that, and there are a lot of people who know that. People won't forget your name so easily... But right now, people want peace. Morrison is what they perceive as the face of peace.” She reached into her lab coat and removed something, a small compact of make up. Opening it, she exposes the mirror to him and hands it over.

“What do you see, Gabriel?”

As his chestnut stare pours down into his reflection, he couldn't help but catch on the scars upon his features, the downward scowl of his lips, the harshness of his stare.

“War.” he replied finally, handing the small item back to her.

“...You see? It's in your head too, Gabriel... That you're not what they wanted. You've convinced yourself that you weren't good enough, so you accepted the role that he gave you.”

“The role _they_ gave me was what I wanted.” Gabriel corrected, looking down. “It fit everything that would have made me happy.”

“...Of course, Gabriel... But if you don't mind my saying, for a man who has everything he wants, you don't seem very happy.”

And... She wasn't wrong. Why did Gabriel feel this way? Why did it matter if Jack was Strike Commander? It was a stressful job, and the blond had willingly taken it off of Gabe's hands. Gabe had hated it... And yet, at the end of the day, Jack _was_ his superior, at least on paper.

“You seem tense, Commander Reyes... You've barely relaxed since I walked in here. Is that normal for you?” She asked.

“A recent ailment.” he confessed. “Jack tells me I should get a chiropractor for it, or something.” And the woman laughed gently.

“That won't be necessary, Gabriel. It is nothing for me to prescribe you some simple muscle relaxers. Nothing that will debilitate you, don't worry. They'll just help loosen you up now and then. I'll also be giving you something for the nightmares, okay?”

“Alright,” Gabriel said, thinking that he was just being paranoid. The nightmares were exhausting, and he needed to be rid of them. Jack had asked him to do this. Jack wanted to see him better, and he wanted to be better, even if the methods were sketchy. “Thank you, Doctor O'Deorain.” He said as he stood. She was writing a prescription already, and they shook hands again as they ended their meeting, but she stopped him at the door.

“Ah, Gabriel. I should warn you... Sometimes the medication can have some harsh side effects. They say that things need to get worse before they get better, yes? We will have to do... Continuing tests. They won't all be pleasant.”

“... I understand. Should I be keeping a journal or something? Shrinks usually ask for something like that.” Moira smiled and laughed gently.

“That won't be necessary, Commander. I'm not a shrink- I'm a geneticist.” She reminds gently “It wont impair your work day, anyway. Before you know it, you wont even need the help anymore. Okay? Try to get some rest. I will have something brought to your quarters this evening.

 

She wasn't kidding. That night, the nightmares were worse than they had ever been. Gabriel woke himself in a cold sweat, inadvertently waking the blond Soldier nearby, who had stayed over with him. Gabriel had never thought to ask about the doctor, as the blond had not come in until long after Gabe was already asleep. As he stared at Jack, he struggled to find words to tell him that he's gotten help. No. Not yet. Let the medicine do its work before Jack can tell him it isn't working and get rid of the woman.

 

The nightmares didn't seem to get better for at least a week, and then slowly, they shifted, growing easier and less traumatizing until they were almost nonexistent. The muscle relaxers helped, and for a time, Gabriel began to feel better than he had in months. But, as his condition improved, Jack's seemed to worsen.

 

_Why is Morrison still accepting advice from Reyes? Wasn't he demoted for a reason?_

 

_They say that Blackwatch is just a place for the people who can't cut it as heroes._

 

_Morrison is probably going to disband them as soon as he doesn't need them anymore._

 

The whispers continued until Gabriel wanted to tear his hair out, that was, if he didn't shave it down to almost nothing on a constant basis. Jack surely wasn't fueling these rumors... Was he? Where could this backlash be coming from?

 

And... Were they right? Was Gabriel only given the position as Blackwatch Commander to placate him and keep him from losing it?

 

Was this all part of Morrison's plan?

 

~

 

Jesse left the ship with little more than a veiled complaint, shrugging his serape loose and tipping his hat a little lower before heading out. It was then that Gabriel and Genji had taken themselves to a rooftop overlooking the building where Hanzo was meant to meet with Talon operatives. Who would show up, Reaper wondered as he slipped on his mask? Widowmaker? Was she 'healed' enough for them to send? Akande himself? Both were large figureheads of Talon, and Gabriel was guessing that it would be risky to send them here... But at the same time, to not send them would seem impersonal, and Hanzo would surely decline.

Stealthily, the two of them scanned every rooftop, looking for any sign of the illusive sniper and finding none. If she was here, she was certainly well hidden.

But if she was, Gabriel thought, they'd probably both already be dead, and moreover, she would know he was here. Here, and alive no less. Was that a risk Overwatch was willing to take?

“You should get into the vents.” Genji advised. “See what's going on inside. For all we know he's already here.”

“I doubt that.” Reaper rumbled.

“Why?” Genji asked, his head snapping Reaper's way.

“Because we're early, and Hanzo never showed up to meet any of the other meetings. We always had to track him down. It was never easy. We don't even know he's going to show up here.”

“We intercepted a message, Gabriel. We know that he will be here.”

And that made Gabriel think. Hanzo had been adamant in his refusal before. The wraith hadn't been told about a message, and knew from personal experience that the sniper had never responded before. With Sombra still being repaired, Gabriel had to wonder who had caught the message, and how had it been transmitted? Surely, Talon wouldn't have sent an open message now knowing that Sombra was working for Overwatch.

That meant...

“ _This is a trap_.” Gabriel growled beneath his mask. “Genji- We need to move, now! Get back to the ship! I'm going after Jesse.”

 

Gabriel evaporated in a second, exploding into a cloud of smoke and twisting down into the air conditioning shaft and spinning his way downward. It was a comparatively small casino, not unlike ones that Talon had visited before. Genji tried to dissuade Gabriel, but the ghost did not respond, instead, barking at Jesse over the comms.

“ _McCree, report.”_

No answer. _Fuck!_

 

It was about then that something stopped Gabriel in his tracks. Sitting down in the casino, lounging in a high backed chair, waiting, was Widowmaker herself. She had been done up in a dark dress, khol eyeliner and jewelry, and no attempt made to hide her pale blue skin.

She was bait.

 _BAIT!_ The idea of it infuriated Gabriel. They expected Hanzo to see her and simply approach because of how peaceful she looked? She was entirely unarmed... Or was Hanzo here at all? Had this bait been laid... For them? Had Talon brought them here specifically to draw them into an attack?

 

Gunshots.

That was the next thing to assault his ears. Everyone else heard it too, along with the sniper below who had suddenly bolted. Those were peacekeeper shots, ruining the serenity of the night with a scream of hot metal.

“ _McCree, report!_ ” Reaper hissed again.

“ _T-talon!_ ” Jesse stammered back, he was clearly running, panting. “They're here- it was a trap! They're trying to get one of u-”

 _Us._ One of _us._ They did not likely know Gabriel was here, but they were now coming after Jesse, who fired four more shots into the night.

Then, true hell broke loose.

 

Lightning seemed to crack horizontally through the sky, and suddenly, the building Gabriel was in began to shudder and quake. Immediately, he fled, blitzing through ventilation shafts that creaked and began to tear, until finally he broke free into the night, and what he saw then shocked even him.

Dragons.

Twin, spinning behemoths of light that tore through the night sky and into every building along the way, snapping and roaring, rendering almost everything they touched useless. He spotted the archer on a distant rooftop- Hanzo was looking right at him. He turned then and bolted, fleeting across roof tops and vanishing down the other sides.

“Hanzo!” He heard Genji yell, the Cyborg suddenly coming to stop beside Gabriel in the darkness of an archway, crouching. Below, people were screaming and yelling. News of the dragons would be headline news for the area, he knew, and they certainly could not be here.

“Jesse!” Gabriel all but roared into the comms.

The voice when it came was quiet... Quiet and astonished.

 _“I'm... I'm fine... He... He saved me..._ _He saved me.”_

Jesse sounded emotional. Genji soon gathered the gunslingers location, and the two went over to him, finding him with his back against a wall, peacekeeper still shaking in hand, a pile of bodies around him. Besides a single gunshot in one of his legs and a few scrapes and bruises, the man was unscathed. Hanzo had indeed saved him... A curious thing, Gabriel thought, but the archer was long gone. And Widowmaker? Had she lived?

That... Didn't matter. Right now, anyway.

 

The trio collected back into the ship seconds later, and were gone from the place in moments.

“I didn't see him.” Jesse was saying. “I was looking, when Talon found me. This was a trap. They baited us here.”

“Gabriel, did anyone see you?” Genji asked, removing his metal mask and setting it aside as they got comfortable on the ship. Reaper's own mask was removed and the hood dropped. He shook his head gently.

“No one-” But then, he remembered. Chestnut eyes slowly flicked up. “Yes... Your brother.”

“WHAT!?” The two others chorused at once, looking mildly terrified.

“He saw me.” Gabe adds, looking down at his mask. “We were standing on the roof top- he was a building away from me. But he saw me, but he didn't shoot. He ran.”

“ _He ran?_ Why?” Genji asked curiously, brows knitting.

“Isn't it obvious?” Jesse uttered, fingers curling in somewhat. “Talon knew we'd come to try and stop a meeting. They knew, so they sent a fake message intentionally to bait us here... Hanzo must have gotten the message somehow.”

“He didn't show up here just to save you.” Reaper rumbles, seeming mildly amused. Jesse rolls his eyes some.

“Go t'hell, Reyes. That ain't what I mean. He ain't exactly fond of any of us. My guess? He showed up here to take care of all of us. He knew we were all going to be here, in one place. Dragons coulda fucked all of us up if we'd been any closer together.”

“If he wanted us all dead, Jesse, he would not have shot you- and he would have killed Gabriel.” Genji reminds.

“ _He would have tried_.” Gabe utters defensively.

“Why _didn't_ he? That's my question.” the cyborg adds. “My brother has no way of knowing that Reaper is working with us... So why didn't he attack?”

And that was a good question. Hanzo had seen him, but deliberately run. Dragons were bad, even for the shade, but could be avoided more easily than most.

“He fled because he did not think he could win.” Gabriel deduced. “More likely, he was surprised to have seen me at all. The world hasn't seen me in months. Most think I'm dead. He knows different now. I think we should question him.”

“Oh? An' how in hell are we going to do that, you reckon?” Jesse asks, nursing a bruise on his temple with a pack of ice.

“... I don't know, but he saved you. That's a start, anyway.”

 

The three seemed content to leave it there, and ventured home to give their reports, rest and repair. Ultimately, everyone came to the same conclusions that they had. Jesse was going to be staying on that case, and if he could, find a way to track the archer down... And keep him out of Talon's hands. Sombra's wiring was finally repaired, which became evident by the way she'd begun pranking other operatives holo-screens and schedules and sending them to meetings that had never been planned.

Over the next few weeks, Gabriel began attending missions on a sort of back-up status. He was something of a scout, looking but rarely fighting. Hardly exciting jobs, by his standards. His guns never even saw a discharge, and nothing seemed to have piqued his interest. No more information of Talon or Hanzo presented itself- the elder Shimada had vanished just as quickly as he had arrived, and so it seemed, had Widowmaker. Akande hadn't shown his face once in the entire ordeal, and Gabriel was beginning to wonder what the man was planning.

All the while, that last memory haunts Gabriel.

“Its coming back slowly.” He confesses to Jesse as he sits with him in the gunslinger's room. “I haven't had a memory for a few weeks, I guess because I stopped taking the pills ever since we got back from Japan.”

“Now why would y'go and do that? Didn't Angela say you were suppose to?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did, Jesse... It's just... I guess I don't like the direction it's going.” He explained, and Jesse sighed, slouching in his seat and reaching up to flick off the holo-screen they were both barely watching in the first place.

“Well go on then. You've already said too much. What the hell happened?” Jesse utters, sensing that Gabriel's close to shutting off any minute now. The reaper was rarely a talkative man, and something had to be bothering him badly if he was going to bring it up here.

As expected, the man hesitates and looks down into an almost empty coffee mug. He's tempted to use it as an excuse just so that he can leave... And yet, if he doesn't tell someone, this is going to continue to nag at him. He knows that Jesse's right; that, he should keep taking the medication, that he needs to remember how it actually was. But there was no easy way for him to say what it was he needed to say.

“The memory looks bad, Jesse... It looks like I was already... Ah... I don't know... Doubting him, I guess.”

“Doubting him? Jack? What d'you mean?”

“Doubting his ability, I guess? His intentions, maybe. I was sick, or something. Nightmares, stress. Rumors. I guess it made me feel like control was being taken away from me, like I wasn't safe anymore, but no one wanted to tell me that, and he loved me too much to just send me home. I heard whispers from other people working there, telling me that maybe I should have just been cut loose, or maybe Morrison intended to get rid of me, but couldn't do it- like I was a dog he couldn't put down. It seemed like we were falling apart, right after he became Strike Commander. He said it wasn't his decision, and he said that Blackwatch was everything I wanted... And I guess for a while, it seemed like it was, but the more I watched and the more I heard, the more it really seemed like it was just a place meant to... Contain me. And that's how I felt... Like a chained up beast that people were afraid of, that no one wanted to talk about, but when they needed me to do something they couldn't stomach, they'd just let me off the chain, and that's what Blackwatch was meant to be. It doesn't feel right, Jesse. It scares me, like... Like maybe I actually _did_ do this horrible thing that everyone says I did. Maybe I _am_ this dreadful monster that just betrayed everyone I cared about... Maybe I _actually_ went mad, Jesse... And if I keep taking the pills, when will I find the logic that lead me to believe that doing that was an acceptable answer to the pain I obviously had? And if I _do_ find that logic... What if-”

“Stop with the what-if's, Reyes. I know what you're sayin'. You think that if you keep takin' the pills, some truth is going to reveal itself to you, and you're going to revert to the way you were then. You think you'll just go back to being that thing, that you'll just hate us all again... But I'm tellin' you, for starters, that ain't gonna happen. You're past all that now, regardless what the reasoning was. You've seen what madness you've been through... And you didn't hate all of us.”

“No?” Reaper asks, and Jesse shakes his head.

“No. All those times you hunted Jack and Ana... You never once came lookin' for me. You never went after Genji. You never even went after Angela. If you hated everyone, doesn't it stand to reason that you'd have hunted us, too? Naw... I think Talon got in your head, poked around somehow. Told you who to hate so it'd benefit them. But I'm the wrong person to talk to about this.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks, looking Jesse's way.

“Rumor is that a Talon defector showed up here several years ago. About a year after the incident, I guess... Now, I never saw them or heard of em, but Angela did. Maybe you go and ask her about it.”

“A defector, and you never brought her in for questioning? You never detained her or interrogated her?”

“This is Overwatch, Gabe, not Blackwatch. I don't know nothin' more about it than that. You go and see Angela. I don't know if she'll tell you anything, but maybe... Maybe she will.”

“There's something else, Jesse.” Gabe says after a long moment. “Something you can't tell anyone else.”

“Oh? And what's that and why not?”

“I've seen Widowmaker.”

“You _what?!_ ”

“Not like- I haven't _been seeing_ her... I saw her. On a couple missions... She's broken like Sombra says, but it's so much worse than anyone realizes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she's sick, Jesse. Sick like... Like Talon is keeping her sick. She's emotionless and disturbed-”

“She's always been-”

“NO!” Reaper suddenly growled, standing up. “Not before I left. Not before she fell. You don't understand. None of you do. Talon... Whatever they did to me? They're still doing to her. She was starting to have emotions when I left. She was getting memories back.” He looked down. “Before I left, she confessed something to me. That, every year, she would go and find his grave- Gerard's. She remembered his name. She went to his grave and she just... Hurt. She said she couldn't explain why, that she didn't remember anything about him or where she had known him, but eventually she realized that he was the reason she was named Widowmaker. She knows that she killed him. She felt this guilt, even if she struggled to say it. Still, Talon was doing the right thing, she thinks. But now... I saw her- in Canada. She's sick, having hallucinations- of _me_ no less. She saw me, and she didn't even think I was real. That's how gone she is, and Talon is making no effort to help her- none! It's like they want her this way because she's easier to control.”

“You think they're intentionally doin' it?” Jesse asks.

“...I don't know how they wouldn't have found a way to improve her by now otherwise.” He replies, and Jesse looks away, letting go of a long, drawn sigh.

“It's possible. Probable, Gabe. But... I don't reckon there's anything we can do about that. She's deadly, and she ain't on our side... You feel bad she's got hallucinations of you? What do you figure that means?”

“I have no idea. I don't... I wonder if part of the reason she is this way now is because she developed feelings for _me_ and now, they've done this to her to try and revert it.”

“Well... Maybe it's for the best-”

“JESSE!” Gabriel barked.

“No! Just listen, Gabe.” Jesse was standing now too. “Look. I know she was your friend. But she ain't now. She's been tryin' to kill us, and she thinks you're dead. It would probably end her torment entirely if she didn't remember you at all. And you... You ought to put her out of your mind. Put her out, and pray that you ain't the one who has to kill her.”

For a long moment, the two looked at each other, before Gabriel turned away.

“That's the same attitude everyone had when they talked about me, Jesse. Just remember that. It's a lot similar to what I could say to you about Hanzo. Put him out of your mind. It's not happening.” He uttered, and he heard Jesse utter a small, mildly insulted gasp before he let the door slide shut behind him.

Gabe regretted it immediately, because it was a harsh thing to say... But, he wasn't wrong, either. There were tons of people they needed to let go of... And Widowmaker was one of them. As much as he didn't want to admit it... She was gone, one way or another. Even if she wasn't gone yet, she would be soon, and eventually, she would die. He couldn't be attached whenever that happened. Like it or not, the woman who had given him her confessions had disappeared with the balcony he couldn't save her from.

Put her out of his mind.

Maybe... Maybe it was a good idea.

So was going to talk to Angela.

 

The following morning, Angela woke and left her room promptly, spooked to find Gabriel leaning there against the wall directly beside her door. She even squeaked slightly as she looked over at him, dressed in his usual black and dark red tones, a hoodie pulled up to shadow his face. She stammered somewhat.

“G-Gabriel! It isn't Halloween yet!” She laughed nervously.

“Very funny, Doctor.” Gabriel mused, glancing over at her.

“What... Ah... What can I help you with?” She asks, a little unnerved by the surprise visit.

He chuckles and pulls away from the wall, head tilting as he looks at her.

“Have you got any appointments this morning?” he asked, and she looked at her clock, shaking her head gently.

“Not until ten. I was just going to get breakfast.”

“Oh. Good. I'll go with you.” The paradox was no stranger to Angela, who obviously immediately knew he wanted to talk, and not on a formal basis, or else he would have scheduled something.

 

Minutes later, they arrived and she ate in quiet- a fruit and yogurt parfait- not heavy, but filling all the same, and she nudged his coffee as he sat there, wordlessly.

“You wanted to talk.” She reminded him, and he smiled.

“Right. Listen, I heard a rumor... About a Talon Defector arriving at Overwatch, some years ago? Could you tell me about that?”

“Ah... Why? It is such old news now. She wasn't... I mean. This isn't something we should talk about in the open.”

“ _She?_ ” Gabe asks. Hesitantly, Angela looks around the cafeteria, which was almost empty, but she wasn't taking any risks. Her head tilted towards the far corner and she scooped up her bowl and drink and moved off towards it, and the man followed shortly there after.

“She. We didn't admit her, Gabriel... But we were shocked, maybe even a little scared by her.”

“What do you mean? Tell me how it happened.” He insisted, not recalling any defectors within Talon, but then, that long ago, it was unlikely that they would have told him anyway.

“Before we had fully recovered from the explosion... Before Jack had revealed himself, before Sombra had joined us... It was just the few of us who remained. We had a small base in southern Kenya. This woman... She showed up there, out of the blue. We have no idea how she found us or who she really was, but she called herself Edaly. She told us that she was a defector, and that she could prove that Talon was involved in the fall of Overwatch. But, we didn't trust her- how could we? Everything was so new and so fresh- We didn't trust anyone, and barely trusted each other. She said that she would give us information, but at a cost.”

“What cost?”

“That... We would not be allowed to bring her in. We could not imprison her, interrogate her. She was giving us information willingly, and did not want her aid to turn against her. We were suppose to help her escape Talon's eye, and sequester her somewhere away, somewhere safe that Talon could not find her... Naturally, we declined. We felt like it was a trap somehow.” The doctor sips her coffee and shrugs lightly. “It wasn't until Sombra joined us that we heard about it again, two years later. Sombra worked, seemingly tirelessly, researching, looking for any clues, any hints into the woman's history eventually, there was a connection- one small clue that gave the story validity. Sombra, newly affiliated with Talon, could not go to her, so they sent me.”

“You? Why?”

“Winston and Tracer in hiding, Reinhardt too large to go anywhere unnoticed, Torbjorn... Ah, not the most personable man... They sent me, because no one would question a doctor going to Oasis.”

“Oasis? That is where she hid herself?”

“That is where she still is, I presume. The city is a safe haven for all sorts, Gabriel... Even a Talon defector, it would seem.”

“And what did she tell you?”

“She...” Angela looked down some, suddenly finishing her drink and pushing her bowl away, appetite lost. “She told me that Gabriel Reyes didn't die. She told me that the Reaper was he, and that she had seen what Talon had done to you. She said they had manipulated you, but she didn't say how. She said that they had been the reason you were corrupted. That, there was proof of it, but she couldn't say where. As she told me about it, I began to believe her story... When I came back home, everyone else was understandably skeptical. Eventually, we sought proof for ourselves that you were even who she said, but the more we saw you fight, the more obvious it became. Sombra said she could confirm it, but it wasn't until I saw your face that I believed it entirely. I decided I wanted to try and help you. Genji agreed to aid me, if only to keep me safe. Ana agreed to give you a chance... Winston was hesitant... Jack adamantly confessed he thought it a terrible idea. But here we are now.”

It took Gabriel a long moment to digest what she had said, leaning back in his seat and sipping away at his drink as she folded her arms across her chest. She could see him in deep thought.

“Why, Gabriel? What does this mean to you?”

“It means that someone knows the truth. More than any of us, Angela... My recent memories leave me with more questions than I can stand. She might be able to answer some of them. Do you think you could arrange for me to meet her?”

“... Some might roll their eyes... But assuming that Winston doesn't have something else planned for you, I could try. When do you expect to go?”

“As soon as possible. This week.”

“She's taken herself off the grid, Gabriel... She has no number, and the address I have might be out of date. You might go there and find her gone. Are you sure that's still something you want?”

“Can't Sombra find her?”

“Sombra is good at finding people on a grid, Gabriel. Edaly is a ghost.”

“I have to talk to her, Angela.”

“... Alright,” The doctor sighs, moving to stand. “I'll get things sorted as soon as I can. Be patient, if you can. It may not be easy to convince Winston to let you go on this little... Adventure.”

 

Gabriel smiles and dips his head, standing as well. “Thank you, Angela.”

 

Finally. Real answers.

 

He was getting closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! Please bare with me, as Moira is still very new, I'm trying to get a handle on her personality and attitude. With the new lore, I ended up having to re-write a lot of this chapter, along with what I had planned for the future, so I hope you guys don't mind if things are a little shoddy right now! Just trying to go off of what information we do have ^^
> 
> As always, your comments are appreciated and welcome.   
> Let me know if you find any spelling errors or anything, thanks!


	33. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves for heavy doses of information and what-ifs.

It was two whole days before a flight was finally scheduled for him. Winston had only caved because he felt like it might give Gabriel the reassurance he needed- and the less violent jobs he could send the shade on, the better. But, there were rules, of course. No feeding, no killing, no abilities. If he was doing this, it was as a normal human being.

Gabriel already knew he was going to break at least one of those rules, but he didn't offer up that tidbit of information.

It was a long flight that left Gabriel stiff and bored in the cabin, for once, alone. This wasn't detailed as a combat mission, so no one had been sent with him. He wore normal clothes with the addition of a pair of gloves, and sunglasses, things that would keep his ethereal attributes concealed, which included a vest of the same sort of technology worn beneath his clothing as was embedded into his coat. To civilians, he'd look completely normal, at least until he dropped his hood. The address wasn't hard to find, but Gabriel found himself in shock the moment he stepped off the ship. Oasis was... A monolithic achievement of human architecture. It looked as though an artist's eye had gone into the delicate construction of every feature, every detail a grand as a main facing wall, down to the tiny engravings built into the door frames of alleyways he passed. Glass was everywhere in different shades of blue and purple, gold accents and the hint of adobe tones, everywhere. People sang and danced, humans and omnics alike, but one resounding theme echoed above everything else- business. Commerce was everywhere here, and it was rare to see a holo-screen that didn't have some kind of advertisement on it. No one would never notice him here. No one.

Gabriel could not shake the feeling that he had been here before, though. Buildings looked similar in a strange way, and there was something within him that seemed to sad with the relief of familiarity. Like it was home, somehow.

Eventually, an alleyway opened before him, and following the information Angela had given him, he followed it down into what turned into a residential section of condos. The buildings were tall here, stacked upon each other and so far overhead that Gabriel was given the distinct feeling of walking into a cave. But, at the end of this tunnel of buildings, the coastline provided a gorgeous view of the sea and sunset. It was at the end of this row that he found the condo in question. It was a pale cream tone, with wrought iron fencing and potted plants out front of the tropical variety, with a couple palms at the corner of either edge of the building which seemed to frame it. Gabriel should have been glad he didn't have to take any elevators anywhere, but the sound of laughter inside discouraged him. Edaly was an old woman, surely not a family with children. Would they even speak his language? There was only one way to know.

Finally, he knocked on the door after assuring that he looked as normal as he was meant to- he couldn't allow these people to recognize him. The sound of feet echoed upon hardwood flooring until someone came to the door. It was a small girl, no more than seven years old, with short, curly brown hair and bright green eyes, tanned, middle-eastern skin. She smiled up at him as she giggled at who was probably her friend, or sister, crouching nearby, peeking out.

“Ah- hi.” he greeted, doing his best to keep the rasp out of his voice. “I'm looking for someone, perhaps...”

No. They did not speak his language. It was made obvious by the way they stared at him, and then said something in Arabic that he couldn't interpret.

“Ah...” he murmured. “...Mother? Grandmother? Edaly?”

At this, their eyes widened and they stammered something loudly and clapped, repeating the name. _Edaly, Edaly!_ And then they bolted, leaving the door open. He stood there, dumbly, until about a minute later, when one of them returned and absently gripped him by one of his fingers and lead him in, still yammering. Gabriel followed along, almost tripping with the insistence of the young girl, and followed her up a staircase of what looked like white marble lined with deep blue carpet. Eventually, they arrived on an upper flat that lead out to a balcony overlooking the sea.

And there he found her, a woman easily a few years older than he, greying hair in curls, eyes that wandered aimlessly... She was blind. The woman sat in a reclining lawn chair, a drink nearby, obviously some kind of ice tea. The sun was setting, but she seemed not to notice.

“...Edaly?” he asked hesitantly. The woman turned her eyes towards him, but never quite landed on him exactly.

“If you're from the hospital, you can tell them to stop sending me American doc-”

“I'm not from the hospital.” He replied quickly, with such a small detail, able to discern that she was sick in some way, besides the blindness.

“But you are American,” she rebuked quickly. “I'd know that accent anywhere.”

“... Yes, I'm American.” he confessed. “Are you Edaly?”

“Who wants to know?” She asked, and in that moment, Gabriel knew this woman was absolutely Talon at one point. It was just the sort of answer one of their own would have given, and even more the sort that someone paranoid would give.

“Someone who has questions. Someone who means you no harm. Can I sit?” he asks. She smiles somewhat at his vague response, then chuckles.

“Assassins don't usually ask to sit.” She replies, venturing another guess at why he's here.

“I am not an assassin.” he replies, leaning forward. He lets his voice slip, allowing her to hear him the way that most others knew him- as Reaper. “ _Not anymore._ ”

The woman stops breathing for just a small moment, carefully reaching for her drink and taking a shallow sip before setting it aside again.

“So.” She finally said. “You _finally_ broke free. You're _finally_ here. I knew that one day it would happen, but I did not know if I would be alive to see it.”

“You know who I am?” He asked in a lower tone.

“Explicitly, Gabriel Reyes.” She replies, just as quietly. He feels nerves of excitement rocket through him. This woman has answers, answers he needs! “You're here with Overwatch?” She asked.

“I'm here alone.” He quickly answered.

“But on behalf of Overwatch.”

“On behalf of myself.” He corrected, and her brows knitted somewhat.

“You're _not_ still Talon.”

“ _No._ ” He explained, to which the woman seemed to contemplate before she tipped her head agreeably.

“You have questions. I'm not getting any younger. Why is it that Overwatch is willing to listen to me now?”

“They're not here. They didn't send me. I came because I want to hear what you have to say. They didn't trust me then. I suppose you could say they thought I was beyond repair. You must have convinced Angela very well with your story. I want to see if it matches what I remember.”

“But you don't remember everything.” She mused, and he looked down.

“Not yet. I'm getting there. Tell me a story, Edaly.”

“Are my girls away?”

“Downstairs, playing. We're speaking English anyway.”

“So do they- they're just... Silly little tricksters.” She mused with a laugh. The girls had obviously gotten quite a kick out of leading Gabriel on. The woman then took another sip of her drink, tapping her fingernails against the glass as her eyes wandered as she recalled.

 

“It was years and years ago. I... Don't want to talk about why I joined Talon. It was a rough time in my life, as it was for almost everyone involved in that organization. And, it doesn't matter for this.” She trails off, eyes turning away as if she's ashamed, despite the sightless stare. “Once I had been there a while, I saw... I saw what they did to Amélie. Then I saw what they did to you.

I was a doctor, Gabriel. I was one of the medics. I saw to the recruits, the soldiers, even the key operatives and new acquisitions. I was privy to some details about how it was done. Some. Not all of them, but some. I knew that Talon had a plan for getting you, just as they had a plan for killing Gerard. They originally planned to kill Amélie after she had finished her job... But she proved useful to them, so they kept her. Then... With the end of the crisis, and with your demotion, they saw an opportunity. For someone like Akande, and the rest of the council, war is a necessary part of human evolution, if you will. Human improvement. You know that better than most.”

“Of course.”

“Overwatch was a threat to that.”

Again, the woman pauses, composing herself for what she had to say.

“Overwatch was and has always been Talon's primary target, Gabriel. For years. Before anyone even knew Talon existed, Overwatch was their focus. Peace makes people weak, they say. Makes them... Content. Contentment makes people drop their guard. Grow soft... So they made this _plan_. This plan to get you on their side, and decay Overwatch from the inside. After all that they had seen you do, they knew you were unstoppable. They knew that Overwatch would not stop until they had achieved their goal. The story of how that happened is complicated. Everyone seems to have their own idea of what had happened... But it seems to fall into a few small categories. Most will say you grew jealous and that rage and hate consumed you. Some will say you went mad, or that you were convinced by Talon to change sides. Others will tell you that you were just manipulated... In truth, it's all of these things.”

For a moment, the weight of this seemed to settle on the man before he leaned in just barely.

“W-What? What do you mean?”

“It started slow, Gabriel. A word here or there. A whisper in the halls. A rumor. A seed of doubt carefully placed into your mind. Then, you discovered someone. You met someone. A brilliant mind, a doctor- a Geneticist. Unbeknownst to you at the time, a woman who had special ties with Talon. A woman who needed work and took work wherever she could get it. Talon needed her, and so did you... At the same time, you both lobbied for her attention and her support... She made a deal, I suppose. Talon would pay her more than she had ever dreamed, funding her research as far as she could reach if she but did one thing for them: Deliver you. She drugged you, Gabriel. The same way they drugged _her_. The Widowmaker. Now I don't know what drug it was specifically. For all I know, it was just an experimental concoction. I don't know the specifics of how she administered it, but I have some idea of how it went down...” She trailed off for a moment, then looked towards his direction, eyes landing somewhere distant. “When you were Strike Commander, you had a hand in everything. All of the choices, all of the people who were admitted into Overwatch. Everyone... You had the final say on every detail of the organization, Gabriel. Ultimate power. The kind you did exceptionally well with. And well you did, until one day, you gave that up. You decided perhaps that it was too much for you, or that maybe it wasn't worth your time... Talon had heard of the process. How Jack Morrison had been unceremoniously promoted over your head without your input nor approval. It was known that you two were close, but something like that? That was a weakness. A gap that they could wedge into. Talon infiltrated Overwatch very early, right after that. The people you hired beneath you to do the menial work weren't as thorough, nor as guarded as either of you two were, and it wasn't long before Talon had their fingers in as many departments as you both did. They delivered your food, your medicine. They made your beds, cleaned your sheets, scoped your rooms, rifled your desks for information they needed. Just enough to convince you of the lie's legitimacy. Just enough to get themselves a tight hold on _your_ reality. They became your doctors, your gardeners- underlings that you might otherwise never suspect. They even became soldiers that fought along side you. Then there was the woman... Moira.”

“ _Moira. O'Deorain?_ ”

“Ah! Your geneticist. You remember her, don't you? She was one of ours.”

“ _She_ turned me into this thing?”

“Be patient, Gabriel. The drug she pumped into your system worked slow, poisoning you against not only your common sense, but everyone around you as well. She made you question Morrison and Ana. Made you question your role in Overwatch, and the purpose of Blackwatch. The whispers made you doubt them, carefully placed and spoken by Talon agents just in your hearing range, making you think and feel that something was not quite right. They'd say things that, at first, you might not have even considered. Let you think you were overhearing them. Talon knew that the bond between you and Morrison was strong, and in order to break that, they'd have to ruin your trust in him. So, they did, bit by bit, making you think and feel like you had been undermined. Making you believe that you were just his... Dirty secret, and that somehow, he had surpassed you. That you were no longer someone they wanted, but someone they tolerated. They slowly convinced you that Morrison had taken everything you had, not because he could, but because he wanted to. So you accepted Moira's help, because it made you feel like you had control over something. Anything.

Then, she _convinced_ you to become Reaper by making you paranoid. Moreover, unknown to us, the nanites within your body- the ones put there by the SEP... You knew them as black scabs. They saved your life, multiple times, but with this drug, they started to become... A cancer, of sorts.”

“Wait.” He interrupted. “You _knew_ that SEP had injected me with nanites?”

“What else could they be? We found SEP logs long after the organization had been disbanded. We know what they injected you with.”

“How is it that you knew, but Angela didn't?” He seems skeptical, trying to poke holes in her logic as she spoke.

“Angela wasn't your primary, remember? She had no hand in your blood-work, at least not at the beginning. You chose Moira to trust your secrets with. You let her do whatever she needed if it made you feel better. If you felt better and looked better, and Jack was no longer concerned for your health, to you, the cost was worth it. Moreover, you seemed healthy and happy, and you'd not told anyone about the scabs, no one outside of Moira, so no one had any reason to suspect. When Moira finally got her chance to look at them, and at your blood, she was quickly able to connect the dots between the SEP and your nightmares. Then, all she had to do was convince you that her genetic experiments would be for the best. She told Talon, but none of the people who mattered in Overwatch. No one knew about the questionable tests you two were doing in secret away from everyone else. Anyway, those nanites, when Moira had finished toying with your blood, they grew, Gabriel. And when you slept, the nightmares you had...”

As she spoke, images began to come back to Gabriel, eyes distant as the flashes of memories rocked through his mind. “You would lay down to sleep,” She was saying, as he watched himself doing so, closing his eyes in his quarters in the dim light, Jack nearby, arms curled around him, eyes closed, breathing even, content and happy. Jack often abandoned his own quarters to go to Gabriel's. He could remember now that it was very rare that either of them slept alone. The image changed- himself, sitting on a table as Moira hooked him up to machines and did tests on him- he remembers the pain, a pain that is now familiar to him, a constant part of his life... Most prominent when he didn't feed. A consequence of the unnatural way she had changed who, and what, he was. “And then it possessed you. It became you, Gabriel. Reaper developed within you as you slept, with her drugs, becoming more and more real. Each nightmare you had started to become normal, until you no longer even knew they were happening. Until they were no longer nightmares at all, but reality come to life. You'd sleep, then wake up an hour later as Reaper.” He saw himself fade out from beneath Jack's grasp, evaporating like so much smoke as the blond rolled over, suddenly colder, oblivious and unaware. The Reaper took shape, a black cloud of a nightmare that seeped away into the shadows of the room, gone in seconds, leaving the room cold in his wake.

“You became this ghost- This monster that the world knew, and the nanites... They needed to make more, you see. You and they, you became one. They became your blood, and you became them. They needed to _feed_. You went where you could, stealing what people called souls, leaving husks behind you, but even then, your abilities were nothing compared to what they are now. You didn't know them, or how to use them. No one could have guessed how the nanites would react to the drugs Moira was giving you... Even Talon was surprised by what happened to you. The drug made you more sympathetic towards the message that Talon had to send. You told yourself that this- this hell you were going through, that whatever didn't kill you made you _stronger_. That was the message Talon embodied, and they knew that when the time came, you'd be ready. Moira knew it too, and she did everything in her power to remind you that you were right... That you were strong, and necessary. But in your dream-walking, Reaper was little more than an animal. It fed because it was hungry, and it fled when it was in pain. It did not care to question why or how... It was just a beast, reacting on instinct.

As it took over you, you grew more hateful, more resentful. You began to loathe what the world had done to you, in your eyes, and even your own lover, who seemed to adore the limelight... And the world... Loved seeing him in it. They didn't want you anywhere, and you... You didn't want them, either. Oblivious to your lack of sleep, but still experiencing the side effects from it, you visited Moira more and more, until she has all but brainwashed you against Morrison, and against Overwatch. She had made you one of her closest friends, Gabriel. She wanted you to remember her when everything went south.”

 

Gabriel is horrified.

In his mind, he struggles to comprehend how thoroughly Talon had managed to pull this off, if it was true. How could they have gotten under their skin so easily, and so easily manipulated him against everything he held dear? In what nightmare could this have been possible and so successfully pulled off against the renowned, working machine that Overwatch was?

“Do you have any proof of any of this?” he asked, trying to hide his distrust. He didn't want to- couldn't believe this was real. It sickened him. And yet, it was the only story he had heard so far that actually made any sense. As much as he wanted to deny it, every hole he had tried to poke in her story, she had filled.

“Oh? That you think I, a blind woman of nearly seventy four, would have the time or care to make up such an elaborate lie is cute, Gabriel. I saw proof of it once, but it was locked away. Not on any computer or chip, but on paper. Somewhere safe, though I was never told where. I fled Talon after I saw the full scope of it... When we saw how it all ended...”

“What do you mean? How did it end?”

“Ah... You don't remember... It was discovered that Moira was developing weapons, Gabriel. Weapons that lost her her funding, entirely. Without funding, she couldn't advance, and she couldn't keep working on you. Outraged, Moira convinced you to destroy the Swiss headquarters, Gabriel. You planted charges over almost every inch of it, then blew it sky high during an argument with Jack. You were meant to flee with her before the explosion, but something happened. Something only you would know, because you did not flee with her. During the fight, she fled, destroying or hiding all evidence and making her way back to Talon. She reported that you were lost, because you had never turned up. Talon thought you had died as well, until you showed up at our door.”

“Showed up?”

“Mmm. Yes. You, in all of your wraith-like glory. You said that you were the Angel of Death... And that you would work with us until we had finished our mission to destroy Overwatch. We still don't quite know what it was that helped you survive. That was not something any of us anticipated.”

“Angela.” Gabe said suddenly, fitting the last pieces of the puzzle into place. “Her staff... She tried to resurrect me, Edaly, after I had died. My nanites must have used what she forced into me and finished the process, so to speak... But my memories?”

“Talon blocked them, just as they blocked Widowmaker's... It was so that you wouldn't remember Moira, or Overwatch, or anything that had been done to you. After that, she almost didn't speak to you. You were a finished project within Talon... And Moira gave you no reason to suspect that she knew you, working behind the scenes on... New projects.”

“So she's still there... Now?” He asks, brows lofting somewhat, and Edaly shrugged.

“I can't say. I don't know. She was there when I left, but I haven't heard anything about her in years, Gabriel. I can't help but wonder if she's moved on, but I somehow doubt that Talon would easily let go of someone so useful. All they had to do was keep you in the dark... And they did, for a while. but I knew it wouldn't last forever. I didn't want to be involved. I knew that one day, you would end anyone who had a hand in doing this to you. And you... You don't die, at least, not that anyone has ever seen. Those aren't odds I like, Gabriel.”

“So you fled here and changed your name.”

“I did...” She looks down then, considering her words.

“Why Oasis, Edaly? Why do I remember this place?”

“When you emerged from your grave, you went to the one place you knew Moira might be. You didn't know where Talon was centered... You found her here. I fled here because I knew it was the last place she'd ever look. I knew that even if your hacker found me here, she would protect me. I am an old doctor, Gabriel. This place is rampant with Doctors.” The elder woman trailed off, her fingers tapping against her glass. “Are you going to kill me now? Finish the job?” She asked, seeming expectant. Gabriel looked over at her, then moved to stand as he stared into her blank eyes. Her body was old, obviously sick somehow. She hadn't always been blind- that much was obvious. Edaly was already dying.

“I'm not in the habit of playing god, Edaly. It seems to me that your maker has already fit you with a suitable end for the wrong you helped do. And... I'm not that monster. Not anymore.”

Edaly smiles.

“Goodbye, Gabriel. I do not think you and I will ever speak again... And I am glad that you survived all that they did to you. Now you must live with what you have done yourself... As we all must. Goodbye, Reaper.”

The man looks at her one last time before curling his shadows around himself.

“ _Goodbye, Edaly._ ”

Then, he teleports away, back to the ship, mind full and rolling with thoughts, swarming with rage. His memories, he supposed, would prove if what she had said was true or not. Everything seemed to corroborate perfectly, and that infuriated him more than saddened him. Talon had deliberately destroyed his relationship, his love for Jack, their trust, and the organization they had built together. They had taken everything from him, and in the end, used him like a tool to finish their job.

 

Justice was just a word that people used for revenge when it was deserved.

Gabriel would _have_ his revenge.

 

They would all die.

 

Two days later, Gabriel sat in his room late into the evening, debating over all that had happened, and all that he had learned. Was it true, what Edaly had said? Has the doctor, Moira, done this to him? Though he could not remember it, and in fact, barely remembered her from Talon at all, he began to think it must be true. Edaly was dying, and yes, she had no reason to lie. He scraped his mind for any trace of Moira. The few times he had seen her in Talon, it had been in passing. A woman with a sophisticated voice, and an ever-present smile every time she saw him. One he never returned. She was always reclusive, away with her projects, lending her scientific advise to missions, most of which he tuned out except where it was relevant.

Now, here he was, at Overwatch. Did she think him dead? She must, he realized, or else she and the others would already have tried to come for him, that was, if they could even find the Overwatch Headquarters. That would be even harder for them now that Sombra had been outed. That would find them to find another hacker, Gabriel knew, if they hadn't fond one already.

A knock comes at his door, and lazily, he glances that way before up at the holo-screen. A small camera feed had appeared in the lower right corner, allowing Gabriel to screen the visitor, as it were. Jack glances up towards the camera from outside, and he's holding something, but from where he stands, Gabe can't see what.

“Open up, Gabe. I ain't gonna stand here all night.” The soldier barks. Finally, the wraith ghosts away from his place on the couch and comes to the door, opening it without even the interest to reform himself. Jack stands just there, watching as Gabe floats away, back to his position.

“...You alright?” Jack asks, slipping in and letting the door close behind him. Finally, what he's carrying becomes apparent- alcohol. Whiskey, an apparent favorite of them both.

“Mmn,” Gabe grunts, and the Soldier strides across the room to the minibar, fetching two tumblers.

“No one's seen you since you got back, Gabe. What the hell happened?”

Gabriel sighs and looks down his head shaking gently. When he looks up, Jack is handing him a glass. He reaches up and accepts the offering, then puts back a long sip.

“Want to talk about it?” Jack presses, coming to sit on the couch beside the man, who has finally reformed, but smoke drifts up off of him in steady sheets, giving away his emotion.

“There's nothing to talk about, Jack.”

“What do you mean? What did she say to you?”

“Nothing I can prove. Nothing anyone can prove... But the bottom line is a simple one...” Gabriel pauses, looking up from his drink, then over to Jack. “I did this, Jack.”

“... How?”

“Moira. Moira, the doctor- the Geneticist, Jack. I brought her into Overwatch, into Blackwatch-”

“I know but how-”

“ _Just listen._ ” Reaper growls, and Gabriel looks back down at his glass. “There was something going on. Something I never told you about... I was... Afraid. Afraid that you'd be scared of me or maybe that you'd never trust me again... Do you remember... Back in SEP... When Val had her episode with me on the roof-”

“She was terrified of you, Gabe. She wouldn't tell us anything.”

“And she had every right to be afraid. I turned into this thing, Jack. Something... Something in the injections they put in me made it almost impossible for me to die. It healed me. Nanites, or something... It turned me into this creature. This demon.”

“ _Reaper._ ”

“No. The precursor. When I brought Moira into Blackwatch... I thought she could help. I thought that maybe she could repair me, or fix it. Make me normal again, or something. I trusted her, because you wanted me to get help, and I couldn't... I was afraid to tell you the truth of what I was. So I thought, I'd just do it and get it done. I thought she could make it like it never happened. So I let her do her testing. I let her make it worse. Watched what she did to me, but the nightmares went away or so... So I thought. Talon infiltrated Overwatch early. They turned me against you, more and more, until I forgot what we were doing there, what we had together. They made me think that maybe it was _right_ to be Reaper. That, maybe _this_ was how it _should_ have been. I betrayed you, Jack. I betrayed everyone.” His voice had grown shallow and trembled with equal parts pain and rage. “I let everything we did crumble out of jealousy and the need for reveng-” His voice cracked, and suddenly, Jack had set down his glass and moved closer. Warm arms enveloped Gabriel and pulled him close.

“ _I am so sorry._ ” Gabriel managed to spit out in a fragile tone.

Jack, speechless beside him, stared away. Seeing Gabriel like this always hurt more than anything else in the world. And what could he say? If it was true that Gabriel had betrayed them as he said, there was almost nothing he could do for him. There was no redemption in sight.

“You were manipulated.” Jack reasoned quietly. “You didn't know she was going to-”

“ _I brought her in._ ” Reaper rumbled in response. “ _Against all orders. Against all common sense. I disobeyed you, Ana, everyone. I was selfish, greedy and cold. Abandoned you when you needed me most, and let this witch turn me into this thing... I threw away everything we had, because I didn't feel... Appreciated... I was so foolish. And I can't undo it now._ ”

“But Gabriel,” Jack offered, leaning close somewhat so that his head temple touched lightly to Gabe's. “Breaking the rules was always one of your best qualities. We got through so much because of it... You are still the same man I knew then. You're still a hero, Gabe...”

“ _I'm broken, Jack._ ”

“We're all broken... None of us are innocent in any of this. None of us are. If it's true that Talon infiltrated Overwatch, none of us noticed. We allowed it to happen. You don't have to bare this alone-” And suddenly, Gabe's head had lifted and he was looking into blue eyes, as if looking for the truth in them.

He found the truth in Jack's kiss when it came.

The Soldier leaned in, pressing his lips gently against Gabe's. The air between them felt thin, shaken by their breathing. They kissed again, and once more, before Gabe finally pulled back and looked away. “I can't be redeemed for what I've done, Jack.” He said finally. “There will be a day that punishment comes for me. I can't run from it. Talon was still part of me. Talon...” He trailed off, and Jack leaned back somewhat.

“Tell me about it?” he asked.

“About what- Talon?”

“Yeah... Why not? Might help.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What did you... _Do_ there? I mean... What do you remember?”

Gabe looked down and finished his drink, only for Jack to soon refill it.

“I remember... Well... I guess the earliest I have are missions I did for them. Executions. Recruitment. Training. I did a lot of interrogations. I did anything they needed me to. Mostly with Widowmaker. She was always with me in the beginning. I remember her being at my side and fighting with me, giving orders, sending reports, looking for key targets. It was just a job.”

“But you and she... Became more?” Jack ventured, and Gabe's head snapped over,

“Ah... Not like you think... I know what you heard, Jack. I did that... I guess I don't know why I did that. Being around you filled me with so much rage and confusion. I wanted you to hurt and I knew that somehow that would work. She wanted me- I don't know why. I'm not really sure she knew why either. We were never really romantic. We weren't even affectionate before that. She was just... I mean, I wouldn't call her a friend, then. It was a job for her, and we had each other's backs.”

“Sounds familiar.” Jack uttered, looking down. “She was your partner. Like SEP, like I was.”

“I didn't fall in love with her, Jack.”

This causes the Soldier to look over, impressed and surprised somehow by Gabe's words.

“I know you all think that,” Gabe continued. “But that isn't what it was at all. I saw something in her, I connected with her in a strange way. She shared something with me, Jack. Something I'll never forget. In the beginning, she said she didn't want to know anything about her past. Who she was before and what she had done no longer mattered. Told me that Talon was her only family, and that they had saved her and given her a purpose. That that was the only thing she lived for now, was to serve them. But later, that changed. Apparently, she had begun to remember things from before. She knew Gerard. She knew she had killed him. But, like me, they had poisoned her against him. They had taught her that he was a bad man, and that he deserved to die. She regrets it, Jack. Every year around the holidays, she goes to his grave. She stays there and looks at it, trying to remember what they once were... She confided in me, Jack. I think she became attached to me somehow. Maybe because I saved her, or maybe because, I didn't give up on her when Talon, her family, already had. They gave me the order to leave her there, and I couldn't. When I had decided to leave Talon, when I saw her there on the balcony, all I could think was that now... Now she was going to be alone. She would have to suffer that pain by herself, and no one would be there to help her. Yes. She was my partner. I cared about her... But I did not fall in love with her. Not like I did with you.” He sighs, and looks away, unable to stand the way Jack stares at him. “What?” Reaper growls.

“Just... You,” the man replies. “After all these years. After everything you've been through, you still have that sense of loyalty, that need to protect. Even though you weren't on the same side. You held firm to the one person you valued. It's impressive. I can understand why she'd get attached.”

“Yeah... Well,” Gabriel, “I never trusted her enough to tell her the truth about myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every year, around the same time she left to visit his grave, I left too. I went back to find them... There's this family, Jack. A family I would see. I don't know why. I don't know who they were or their significance to me, but as Reaper, I knew them. I had to see them. I had to know they were safe. I never told her about that.”

“I know about the family, Gabe.” Jack says, and for a long moment there is silence between them as the two stare at each other.

“What did you say?”

“I know about them... I... Ana and I... We were tracking you, before we had any solid proof it was you. We thought, if it was, you'd go back home at some point. That, you'd give us some kind of a sign... And you did.”

“ _Who are they?_ ” Reaper interrupted suddenly.

“I wish we knew-”

“No- you have to-”

“ _We don't, Gabe._ ” Jack utters, then continues before Gabriel can get too excited by what he's saying. “We saw you go back to them, every year. It started about a year or two into you being Reaper. Once we realized that you weren't attacking them, or anyone, we observed. We watched you watch them. We wanted to see what your motivation was. You weren't putting them in any danger, and you clearly didn't want them harmed. A few years later, Sombra offered to search for them, to learn who they were to you, but we declined. If you wanted them left out of the war, we thought, so should we. They are innocent people, and drawing them in would only endanger them...” The white haired Soldier paused, then retook his drink from where he'd set it earlier and drained it to half. “We assume they are related to you somehow... Maybe Rosa's children, or...”

“...Or what, Jack?”

“Well, there's another possibility, but it's very unlikely.”

“Talk.”

“Well... The way I figure... You were in a relationship before SEP. Before everything happened... It's possible that one of them is your child, Gabriel. With Nia.”

“W-What? No. That's impossible! I would remember-”

“ _Would you?_ ” Jack interrupted. “Talon all but scrambled your mind.”

“JACK!” Gabe snaps. “If I had known, don't you think I would have told you? Don't you think I would have said something during Blackwatch, or hell, SEP?”

“Not if you didn't know.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying, what if you discovered them when you and I weren't talking? What if you learned about them during Blackwatch and decided to keep them out of it? After all, you didn't raise them, and had no part in their upbringing-”

“ _So why would I have reached out to them-_ ” Gabe finishes the statement. Jack wasn't wrong- it was the exact sort of way he would have thought. They were innocent, and better off not knowing who he was or what he did, and they were better off not being brought into the war.

“And if you found out as Reaper, we'd have never been told anyway. It stands to reason that Talon would try to suppress as much as they could, but not everything. You _did_ know them enough as Reaper to go and visit them, Gabriel. That much is obvious. I don't know who they are. Not for certain. All I have are guesses. If Nia had your child, I seriously doubt she would have mentioned it to her new partner... Hell, Gabriel, if that's what happened, she may not even have known it was yours. For all we know, she thinks it's his, and has every right to... Just. Look. This is just a speculation. Don't freak out about it, alright? It doesn't mean anything anyway. They're out of the picture. Away and safe. I know that you want to know who they are... But that isn't a luxury we have time for right now. Maybe in the future...”

“You're right.” Gabe said, looking away. “I do want to know. If I have a son or daughter, or if Rosa has kids now that I've never met, I deserve to know. I want to meet them.”

“You _can't_ , Gabriel.”

“ _I know, Jack._ ”

“Just... Just be patient, alright? We have more pressing matters.”

“I will _try_.” Gabe replies, finishing his second drink, setting the glass down nearby. “Thank you for coming here, Jack.”

“...Sure. I figured you might need someone... And the kid doesn't understand you as well as I do.”

The kid, McCree. Gabe didn't even have to ask, but he knew what Jack meant. He was right, too. Gabriel looks over at him and smiles faintly.

“You should go, Jack. Before either of us gets too drunk and starts making more stupid mistakes.” He warns. Jack chuckles lightly then moves to stand, taking Gabe's empty glass.

“You're right, but I'd stay if I didn't have somewhere to be in the morning... Still. Try to be more sociable. People are getting worried about you.”

“People are always worried about me. I doubt that smiling more and saying hello will change that much. If anything, it might worry them more.” Gabriel says as he stands as well and moves with Jack to the door.

He wants to kiss Jack again, remembering how it felt- how it _tasted_... But they both know it's a bad idea. As their eyes meet, they seem to be thinking the same thing.

 

“Well, Goodnight,” Jack says, hesitating for just a moment before turning away.

“Goodnight, Jack.” Gabe says, watching him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope that you enjoy this chapter and the direction this is going! As usual, let me know if you find any typos or anything like that. ^^


	34. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Gore, Heavy Smut

~

 

Gabriel sat on a lab table deep within the bowels of the Underwing. He had been here a dozen times at least, over the weeks and weeks it was that Moira had been with them. How long had she been with them? How long... Since Jack had taken the promotion? Months? _Years?_ _Does it matter?_ It was a voice that developed in his mind, a kind of cold, cynical, pessimistic conscience. Moira did her work well, so much so that the nightmares had all but evaporated and disappeared. Gabriel felt better in ways he was wasn't likely to question, and yet... There was a strangeness, a weakness to his body that he couldn't quite place. Why did the light hurt his eyes so much, and why did his muscles shake now and again when they ought not to?

Jack was pleased with the results, or at least, he seemed to be, with his arms wrapped around Gabe's torso as often as he could manage it. Yet, Gabriel was never there when Jack woke in the morning. Blackwatch was a rough job, everyone knew. No one within its ranks were safe from the darkness it pushed into their daily lives. It would eventually come to pass, Gabe would tell himself. This new experiment was just another test. One of many that Moira had done on him. He could hear her lurking nearby, somewhere behind him as she hooked up machines, and he felt the cold pinch of a needle somewhere on his bare back. “What exactly is this test suppose to do, Doctor?” he asked as he glanced over his shoulder at her. She smiled and laughed gently.

“As all of my tests, Gabriel, Improve. You don't suffer the nightmares as you did before. I'd say that's improvement.”

“I guess what I'm asking is, what are the results you hope to achieve?”

“Hope allows for the chance to be disappointed, Gabriel. I would suggest we use it very sparingly, wouldn't you? I know what it is I want these chemicals to do, but, I also know that science can be surprising.”

“Experiment for experiment's sake is a dangerous game, Moira. How do you know you wont accidentally kill me, one of these days?”

“Oh. Oh, you won't die, Gabriel. The Enhancement Program saw to that.”

“Yet I never see you try to test on Jack. Why is that?”

“You and Commander Morrison were not injected with the same formulas, Gabriel. He does not suffer the same traumas you do, nor the same blood. Were I to test on him, he might _actually_ die.” She laughed softly again, almost playfully. “Though I suppose I could try, if that's what _you_ were _hoping_ for.” She teased, and Gabriel laughed with her and looked down, to the goosebumps forming on his skin from the cold of the room.

“I wouldn't say I want him dead, Moira. At least not yet.”

She laughed again, but offered no reply to the obvious tease.

“So... How do you intend these chemicals will... Improve me?” he tried again, and soon, her hand landed on his shoulder as she stood just behind him, near one of her machines. She began putting vital-monitoring pads over his chest and back.

“You have a very unique healing factor, Gabriel. You're already strong, and already fast. I want to see how far your body can be pushed without breaking you.”

“... Doctor... Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that involve breaking me at some point?”

She paused, then pushed a button on her machine.

“It does... But that's why we're testing on you, Gabriel. You'll heal, and heal, and heal... But never die. When it's done, you'll be better than you ever were before. It will give you the edge in this world that you've always wanted and needed. Perhaps so much that... Everyone... Will be able to see your value.”

“ _Christ_ , _Moira_... They value me. I know where this is going. You've aired your disappointment before. The UN made the right decision. Jack... Isn't for everyone, I know. He's just stressed, exhausted. He's letting me do this so that I don't have to deal with what he does. He's doing this for me, Moira. All of the things we do here, he allows.”

“And is that what you want, Gabriel? To be _allowed_ to do as you please like a dog trapped in a yard? He's free, so long as he doesn't ever try to leave, you know. I wonder when you allowed Jack to become your Master-”

“ _That's enough,_ ” Gabe growled in a voice that was hardly his own, so much that it startled even him. He looked down some at his hands as they twitched. They felt numb somehow, strangely so.

Moira looked over at him, down at his hands, then up to his eyes once more.

“Say what you will, Gabriel. We both know that we're standing here, alive, because of you. Because of what you did for this world. Surely... There were costs... But victory all the same. Happiness does not come without a price, Commander Reyes. I just want to see you properly recognized for all that you have done.” Her tone had become soft, and her hand on his shoulder was warm, despite how wicked it looked- as always, Moira had a _strange_ fashion sense.

“Why can't I feel my hands?” He asked her suddenly, changing the topic.

“It's the test, Gabriel. Nothing to be afraid of.”

And yet, Gabriel was afraid. He was terrified. He watches as the surface of his skin darkened and grew frigid, then, slowly began to steam as if it was hot. The mist that wafted off of it was dark... Grey, and then black. Smoke. He had seen it before, ages ago in SEP.

“Y-you brought it out.” he stammered as he stared.

“It?”

“The beast... This... This thing. You should shut it off.” His voice had changed again, turned raspy and deep, trembling. “Shut it off before it's all over-”

“I can not shut it off, Gabriel. Trust that I know what I'm doing.”

“For _christ sakes, Moira_ , the last time I saw it I was dying!” The man gasped, his head snapping towards her machines. His heart rate had quickened, and though he barely understood what he was looking at, his other vitals didn't look right either.

“You're _not_ dying, Gabriel. This is part of the plan- be still. This is all because of your fear- stop being afraid and it will stabilize. You'll see.” her voice was so calm, so sure. Gabriel wanted to believe her, but something about it felt wrong.

And then... Suddenly, it didn't.

The fatigue in his muscles ebbed away until it was gone, and his eyes felt almost... No. They felt normal. Perfectly fine. Healed somehow. Everything he had been feeling, all of the ache, weariness... All of it was gone. Instantly.

 

Gabriel felt... Stronger.

 

The darkness worked its way up his arms, stretching like vines up his skin, daring to reach his shoulders. His breathing quickened, eyes widening as he watched, equal parts bewildered and horrified. His skin looked as though it was peeling back and away, but yet... It was still there moments later. Was this how he had survived the bastion attack?

 _Something about this is wrong._ That small voice in the back of his head was there again, whispering to him. Warning him.

“ _Moira. Shut it off._ ” Reaper growled venomously, eyes turning towards her. There was red behind his pupils. The strength in his hands intensified, more and more until he began to ache... And burn.

“It's almost over, Gabriel- Just hold on, hold on a few more-”

“ _Stop!_ ” Gabriel screamed, the pain rolling in waves up from his fingers, causing his body to shudder, a whole wave of black pollution radiating off of him as he suddenly surged forward, slipping off of the table onto the floor. Her needle and the workings fell away, and Gabriel caught himself on his hands and knees, limbs trembling as he struggled to hold himself upright on the cold stone flooring. Black smoke swallowed him whole, and he felt hot bile rise in his throat, crowding his airway until he had no choice but to cough it out onto the floor.

Ebon bile and blood poured out of his throat, allowing him to breathe, staining the floor as he panted, catching himself as his arms shook. His heart slowed and his breathing began to even out. Slowly, the darkness began to fade, bit by bit, and with it, the pain. He regained feeling in his fingers as he stared downward. There it was again... That strange balance... That sense of strength, of contentment... The feel of raw power.

Despite the wrongness of it all, Gabriel laughed. It was a slow chuckle at first, but it grew into something more, like the laugh of a man who had made a brilliant discovery.

 

“How do you feel, Gabriel?” Moira asked, a blurry figure somewhere behind him.

 

“ _Alive._ ”

 

The tests continued. Not that day, but following all the same. The tremors would pass, Moira promised, and sooner or later, he would know that strength regularly. It would soothe him where nothing else could. Things always had to get worse before they got better, she said. Best not to tell Morrison about this. It would only worry him more, needlessly so.

Gabriel agreed.

 

No one talked about the things that went on in Blackwatch to anyone else, anyway, especially not when it involved interrogations like this one. Gabriel stood in a room that was much like a steel box, and in front of him, there was a man bound to a chair, already somewhat bloody from what they had been putting him through. Jesse leaned near the door, the hot cherry of a cigar brightening his face within the shadow cast by the single light over their prisoner.

Gabriel held a pair of pliers in hand, dropping into the bucket nearby a freshly removed tooth. The man before him growled defiantly.

Gabriel continued his song, almost joyously. He was feeling especially good after the last testing session, and this man was on the receiving end of Gabriel's ire. His words died off into a hum as he gave the pliers a small flip in his hands.

“They say that you murdered a mother and her two daughters, Deadlock. That's not all they say you did to them. I'd hate to think what they'd do to you in prison.”

“ _They wouldn' fuckin' torture me-_ ”

“Oh no. No I promise you, they would. It would be a hell of a lot less sanitary than what I'm giving to you, too. That much I can promise you. At least, the prisons you would likely be sent to. Somehow, I seriously doubt they'll send you back to Kentucky- Chuck, was it? Was that your name?”

“ _Charles_.”

“Right. Right. Same difference.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Listen, Chuck. I'd like to say, _hey, I don't have time for this. Tell me what I want to know, and it'll be over._ But...” Gabriel circled the man like a shark with prey, and there was already blood in the water. He stopped beside the man, leaning forward so that his head was near his ear. “The truth is, I don't have anywhere to be. We can do this _literally_ all day!” His enthusiasm was horrifying to the inmate, who was still refusing to give up names on who else was involved with Deadlock's most recent heist and massacre.

“ _Boss._ ” Jesse uttered from near the door. Gabriel looked up, across at the cowboy who was a fair bit more seasoned now than when he joined all that time ago.

“Got something to say?” Reyes growled.

“This ain't... We shouldn't-”

But Charles was laughing suddenly. Both men looked down at the prisoner as he dared to speak, his mouth bloody, several teeth missing.

“Well look _at_ you. I heard rumors, boy, 'bout you. 'Bout what they done to you. Cleaned you up like a real prize pup-”

Gabriel had had enough. Jesse was close to him, even if the man did question his orders from time to time. He reached down suddenly and gripped one of the man's fingers with the pliers, causing the man's words to stop short into a scream. Gabriel tightened his grip so much that he felt the bone crack beneath his strength. The man screamed more loudly, and even more so, when the bone suddenly _crushed_ into fragmented pieces, smashed so thoroughly that the finger dangled from nothing more than bruised and torn skin and muscle when Gabe finally released it.

“ _You were saying?_ ” Reaper rumbled.

The man could not reply, struggling with his pain so much that he could not form words.

“ _This ain't right, Commander_.” Jesse growled once more, and Gabriel turned on him, stalking up to the cowboy who did not move or even flinch away from him. It was one of the attributes that Gabriel liked about the gunslinger. He seemed truly fearless. All that changed was the position of the cigar in his mouth.

“ _Do not question my methods, Cadet._ ”

“ _I didn't sign up for this. We ain't villains, and you know it, Reyes-_ ”

Reaper fumed, actually hissing at Jesse in a way that was almost animal. But, Jesse's eyes did not betray fear... But concern. “ _This ain't you, boss. This ain't._ ”

It made Gabriel realize what he was doing, if for a brief moment. He looked down, backing off from Jesse, his shoulders falling back somewhat.

“We need answers.” Gabriel growled. “Have you got a better plan on how to get them?”

Jesse did not answer.

“Are you really going to stand there and defend this _rapist_ for what we're doing to him?” Gabriel uttered again.

The cowboy looked passed Gabriel to the prisoner, brows furrowing.

“I ain't defendin' him, but we ain't those monsters either.”

“Then what do you-”

Jesse had suddenly moved, and brushed passed Gabriel, tossing his cigar into the bloody bucket, hand moving swiftly, drawing up a weapon that Gabriel had given him now long ago. Gabe's eyes widened with sudden realization and fear as Jesse leveled Peacekeeper's barrel on Charles' head.

 

_BANG._

 

Everything was still for a moment, until the man's lifeless body sagged forward, bleeding from the new hole in his forehead.

 

Gabriel screamed in unadulterated rage.

 

“I'll take care of it.” Jesse uttered as he looked back towards the outraged commander. “I'll find them. I'll find the names. We'll clean this up the way it oughtta be.”

“ _McCree, I swear to god if you don't..._ ”

“I know. You'll have my head. I _know._ I'll figure it out, boss. Always do. Always will.”

 

Gabriel wanted to kill Jesse that night, but by some stroke of luck, managed not to. No one else was told of the incident, if only so that people didn't get the idea that disobeying the commander was a good idea.

Ultimately, Jesse came through on his promise, outright assassinating everyone who was connected to the heist, once he had discovered all their names... Once again, proving himself as one of Gabriel's most valuable assets in Blackwatch.

Irreplaceable.

 

A survivalist, just as he'd said.

 

~

 

One night, after dinner, Gabriel leaves the mess hall with Jaelen, a drink still in his hand, since he doesn't eat in the conventional way. She's laughing about some old movie that she really was too young to know about, but Gabriel smirks at her, commenting on her good taste.

“Speaking of which,” She says, nudging him with her elbow and nodding down the hall where Jack has just slipped down a corridor. She smirks up at him.

“ _God._ ” Gabe utters as he rolls his eyes at her. “I'll see you tomorrow, Jaelen,” he says, deliberately turning away from her and taking himself down the hallway Jack had gone. He found the old Soldier standing at a vending machine at the end of the walk, digging a pack of chips out of the drop tray and straightening up. Hearing someone behind him, Jack glances over his shoulder and raises a brow when he sees Gabriel there.

“Hey.” he says.

“Little late for a snack, isn't it?”

“Dinner time, I guess.” Jack says, straightening his zipped up blue hoodie with his free hand. Over his legs, a casual pair of running pants, and tennis shoes on his feet, green with grass smudges. It's clear that hes been busy today. Gabriel is dressed in his usual attire, a pair of dark blue jeans, black and red hoodie, the hood drawn up. Eyes were their usual chestnut, flecked with red, skin a familiar caramel tone. It's clear that he's fed recently, and Jack can't help but notice how good Gabe looks, even with the shadowy tendrils that still snake off of his skin now and again, and out through his clothing.

“So you should be eating dinner.” Gabe muses, sipping his drink, noticing the way Jack looks at him, lips curling into a faint smile. Jack shrugs at him, oblivious that he's been caught looking.

“My diet isn't exactly riveting conversation, Gabe. Can I help you with something?”

“No. I just spotted you and figured I'd... Say hi.”

“How friendly and uncharacteristic.” Jack teases with a small smirk, striding back down the hallway towards Gabe, who starts walking with him.

“Plans tonight?” Gabe asks, and Jack chuckles shortly.

“Some shows, I guess. Nothing special. You bored?”

“ _Exceedingly._ ”

“... Alright. I guess if you insist” Jack offers mirthfully, shrugging Gabe along, and leading him towards his room. Gabriel memorizes the way, not terribly far from his own, but up a level, and down the hall. Easy to reach.

 

Jack unlocks the room quickly and steps inside. Gabe follows, soaking up what he sees. The room itself is in shades of blue and grey and white- it reminds him a lot of the SEP rooms. Jack has pictures of both country and city-scapes on the walls, a couch facing the left wall where there's a holoscreen, and much like Gabriel's room, a door that leads off to the right, into a bedroom with a bathroom equipped. Jack has a small dining table in the back of his main room, with a bar in the corner that looks like it's very rarely touched, neatly kept and well stocked. Like the other rooms, it has no windows, but holo-screens act like windows to the outdoors, showing various scenes similar to Gabriel's does in his room. Jack has three of them, tall ones that sit on the wall behind the couch, offering a beach scene from the west coast f the states somewhere, a scene of the base in Fiji, and anther scene... One that strikes him odd.

It's the forest scene... The same one that's on his own wall.

“Jack?” Gabe asks as the Soldier sets to putting a memchip into a drive.

“Hmm?”

“This place.” Gabe says, standing before the tall screen and staring into it. “It's the same one on my wall. It means something, doesn't it?”

“I'm not simply allowed to like forests?” Jack asks, and Gabe turns to face him.

“Don't be stupid, Jack. I was drawn to it when I saw it. I seriously doubt you decided to put it on your screen after you saw it on mine in Fiji. Tell me about it. Where is it?”

“...Home.” Jack finally replies, moving around the couch to look at the screen with Gabriel. The man sighs. “The original Overwatch base. The first one. I'm surprised you don't remember it yet.” Jack says, and as he does, Gabe looks at him.

“Tell me more.” He sounds eager, and Jack looks back at him. It's clear that Jack isn't sure if he dares, or if it's safe to. Finally the man shrugged, caving.

“...Right after Overwatch started, I guess. It was a new base. Gorgeous scenery. We had gotten so wrapped up in everything we needed to do that we couldn't just be ourselves anymore. It was difficult to be alone if we weren't sleeping. Anyway, you and I sort of.. Took a walk one day. We wanted to just get away from everything and everyone for a few hours. Somewhere where we could just be together, where we could be normal guys without ranks or uniforms, without cameras or rules and regulations. No paperwork, no UN, no SEP. None of that. So we wandered off into the wilderness. I told you it reminded me somewhat of the forests in Indiana, except ours were all maples and such. You told me it reminded you of the pines in California. We found this grove,” he nods at the trees. “It was quiet and still, gorgeous. Untouched by us. By most people. You and I were alone and... Well.” The Soldier trails off and looks away. _Is he blushing?_

“... _And, Jack?_ ” The wraith pries for more information.

“Christ, Gabe.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“What do you _think_ happened?”

“We fucked in the woods?” Gabe asks incredulously with a smirk, and Jack winces.

“I mean... Yeah. But no. It wasn't like that. It wasn't just a good time... It was more.”

Gabriel looks slowly back to the scene. They'd made love out there. Given themselves to each other, finally. There was a spark of rage for a moment that this memory had been stolen from him. Jack clearly remembered it to every detail.

“... Can you tell me about it?” Gabriel asks softly, and Jack looks back his way, sorrow in his eyes.

“Gabe, I'm not sure I-”

“ _Please._ ” There is a desperation in Gabriel's tone that tugs at Jack's heart. His tongue wets his lips and he looks the man in the eyes.

“There was a patch of grass. It was just kissing at first but then... You were so gentle, Gabriel. More gentle than I've ever seen you. You were so happy... So at peace. Being in command hadn't gotten to you yet, and it was like... For a very brief moment, you could just be you, without the war, without omnics, without loss and pain and expectations on your shoulders. You were happy, without the blood and the shadow of our pasts and everything we'd been through. Like for a moment, the future looked bright. You loved me more than anyone ever had in my life. You showed me that.” Jack looks away, it's clear that the memory is a bittersweet reminder of what they lost. The man turns and strides away, back towards the couch.

“Jack, I'm sorry.” Gabe says, stopping the Soldier in his tracks. “I'm sorry that I don't remember that. I'm... Sorry that you have to. Why do you keep this image as a reminder? Why wouldn't you shove it away?”

The white haired man is quiet for a moment before he looks over his shoulder and replies in a quiet tone, his head tilting faintly.

“Because no one has ever loved me that way since. It's too precious of a thing to forget. I'm not going to forsake what blessings the world gave me, however short lived they were.”

The two men are quiet as they look at each other in the light of the picture, though it's somewhat dark with the ebbing of sunset and the arrival of night. Moonlight begins to show itself through the tall poles of tree trunks, lighting up the forest floor with intermittent patches of grass and ferns.

It's then that something catches Gabriel's eye behind Jack, tucked into a corner, neatly on display. For a moment, he doesn't believe his eyes, and blinks hard, brows knitting as he struggles to see it more clearly, skirting around Jack as he moves by.

Jack paces to the wall, turning on the lights so that Gabriel can better see.

There, sitting on a stand, is a guitar. Black and white, caviera skull-painted onto it's surface, taken care of as much as the last time Gabe's fingers touched it. Emotions stir behind Gabe's eyes and he stifles a gasp of raw feeling. Chestnut eyes are wide and memories flash through his mind, snippits of all the times he's played it, and all the times he saw his grandfather play it.

“H-How do you have this, Jackie?” Gabe asks, oblivious to the ancient nickname he's used. Jack catches it immediately, and strides slowly to stand slightly behind Gabriel. His lips parted only slightly, but Gabe continues. “This was meant to go to Rosa... After I died. She was suppose to get everything...”

“And she did, Gabe. She did, but... The guitar held so much pain for her. She asked me to hold on to it until she was ready to see it again. When I saw her, after the fall, when I went looking for you. I found her... She gave it to me in a box. Asked me to keep it safe for her.”

“She knew I loved you.” Gabe says it like a half astonished realization, but Jack recognizes it as a space for explanation.

“Everyone did. Everyone who knew us knew we were involved. Even the media. It wasn't a secret. We stopped hiding it after SEP.”

Gabe is speechless, even more so when he feels hands come up on to either arm from behind him. He looks down, and Jack's hands are there, holding him.

“I meant to give it back to you, Gabe. Once I knew it was you. Once I had seen proof. It's yours now. You can do what you want with it.”

Gabriel turns slowly in Jack's grasp and looks into his eyes. There is an unspoken understanding between them. That this item has meant so much to Jack as to be kept and cared for like some kind of precious heirloom means more to the wraith than he ever realized it could. It says so much about what they had, and how Jack must have revered him, even when he was turning himself into Reaper. About how he must have felt after everything happened.

The man leans in, placing a small, unexpectedly soft kiss against Jack's lips. It's almost more genuine than anything they had had since his return, and Jack can feel the passion and emotion behind it. He kisses back, slowly at first, his hands tightening on Gabe's arms. Their forehead's meet, and Jack reaches up to pull down the hood covering Gabe's head. They kiss again, and after a moment, Gabriel finds his back against a wall, a small detail that he's especially okay with, despite not even realizing they had moved. Gabe's whole lower half has become ghostly, allowing him to gain a little bit of height on Jack before the wall reminds him of gravity, and he solidifies again. The kiss grows more passionate, until Soldier's head tilts. This time he doesn't try pull away or try to discourage it, but instead encourages it, opening his lips just a little to let Gabriel in, which the wraith takes full advantage of. As usual now days, Jack feels impossibly warm against his skin, and the ghost finds himself breathless in seconds, forced to look away, brows pinched as Jack lays his affections onto his neck instead.

“Jack-” Gabe pants faintly, to which the Soldier utters only a grunted reply amidst his kissing. “ _What are we doing?_ ” Reaper rumbles hotly beneath his breath, reminding Jack of who, and where they are. Gabriel expects Jack to pull away at the sound of that voice... But he doesn't. In fact, Jack bites down on Gabe's neck, hard, reminding him of just how well he remembers what it is that he likes. Gabriel rumbles a loud moan, his hands dropping to Jack's hips, at the moment, not minding the authoritative role Jack has taken. But, they're moving again. The old soldier guides them away from the wall and into the bedroom beyond. On a dresser across from the bed, Gabe spots something as Jack walks him back to the foot of the bed. It's small and grey, a worn, knit item inexplicably familiar to Gabriel... His old beanie. Jack had kept that, too? Beside it, there's a picture, an old one of he, Ana and Jack all standing together. It begins to occur to Gabriel that Jack never quite let go. That... Even now, Jack still cared about him, deeply. He let himself be coaxed back onto the bed, until his back touches the soft mattress and his nerves come alive like fire. Lust and desire bloom within him as their eyes meet again.

“Jack... Are you sure? If it's too fast... We can slow-”

“ _I'm sure, Gabe._ ” Jack pants back at him, leaning in once more for another kiss. Gabriel's fingers start to toy around Jack's hoodie, finding the zipper and dragging it down until the Soldier over him shrugs it off. For the moment, Jack has wedged a knee between Gabe's legs, and Gabe knows the implication. He feels vulnerable, strangely weak given how much Jack remembers of him that he can't even recall himself. Is he ready to give himself to Jack this way?

No. No, he isn't ready to submit. Not like this, not after so many years of so much pain.

He decides to take control, and does so abruptly and forcefully, flipping himself out from under Jack and putting the once-blond on his back beneath him. Stunned, the Soldier looks up at him, impressed, a small, playful smile on his lips.

“Is that how it's going to be?” Jack asks, brows raised.

“ _For now._ ” Reaper replies with an equally devilish smile. It's Jack's last chance to back out, but he doesn't. Reaper pulls away the tank top hiding Jack's chest from view and tosses it aside, allowing himself an eyeful of the man like a feast. To no one's surprise, the man is every bit as built as he ever was, a powerhouse of raw adrenaline and strength. Gabriel _wants_ him. Soon, his own jacket comes off, tossed aside, along with the T-shirt beneath it, revealing the two extra arms that ghost into existence now and then. The shade can't help himself as he leans in, pressing their chests together so that he can soak up the raw heat that radiates off of Morrison's frame. A crooning moan pulls out of Reaper, causing him almost to purr like a beast against the man's chest.

 _“That's new_ ,” he hears the other murmur as hands feel up the muscled expanse of Gabriel's back and broad shoulders. As expected, Jack looks for the junction of the ethereal limbs to Gabe's body, and finds nothing but smoke drifting through his fingers. Reaper smirks at him as he pushes himself up a little.

“ _You want those, do you?_ ” he asks, and as much as he wants to tease Morrison, he can see that look of pure curiosity and desire in the other's eyes.

“ _I want them._ ” The blue-eyed hero confesses. Hearing those words like a confessed secret entices a growl of need out of Reaper, who allows one of those arms to sweep forward while his two other arms hold him upright. This one clamps onto Jack's jaw, black claws pressing against the skin as he leans in and kisses him again. Jack moans so loudly that for a moment, Gabe is afraid they might wake whoever sleeps in the room next to this one. The other arm comes into play, black claws teasing along Jack's torso and tracing down his chest until his spine lifts off of the bed, pressing himself up into Reaper's excitedly. Beneath his touch, Gabriel can feel the man's heart hammering madly with excitement. Against the thick thigh that has wedged itself up against Jack's crotch, he can feel a hardy bulge aching for release from the cotton cage Jack has trapped it in.

“ _You missed this, didn't you, Jackie?_ ” Gabriel whispers into Jack's ear after their kiss breaks, and the Soldier's eyes, half closed, flutter open just slightly more.

“ _I missed you, Gabe._ ”

The words are so small, so simple and yet, deep enough that for a moment it feels like nothing's ever changed- like the years of agony and hate have finally been washed away as the two rediscover each other. Jack's discovering more of Reaper than he likely ever expected to, from the way his skin chills to the touch, to the way his claws leave risen red lines on his skin with the strength that Gabriel touches him. Each small hint of pain draws a breathless gasp out of the Soldier and his body arches up off of the bed a little bit more, toes curling in his shoes. He manages to kick them off, and it isn't long before he hears the echo of Gabriel's doing the same.

“ _There's still time to say no, boy scout._ ” Reaper rumbles with a wicked smirk that Jack can feel pressed up against his neck. The nip of his teeth, those slight fangs, all backed by the powerful man Jack had known for years. He can see him now- no, he can _feel_ him there, Gabriel, just beneath the skin. He was getting caught up again, intoxicated on the feeling of being powerless beneath him. He breathes Gabriel in, eyes lifting a little more. Shadows swarm over him and against him, and every breath he takes is another lungful of Reaper himself. His hands, comparatively more dull, claw at Gabriel's back and coax the other leg between his legs. Gabe is all to eager to comply, grinding his hips forward and down just enough to let Jack feel the length of him beneath his jeans. Jack's breath is hot where it lands on his torso, but never does come with any kind of rebuke, no plea to stop, or anything even remotely close.

When their lips meet again, this time they come apart only barely to breathe, tongues pressing eagerly against one another as Gabriel's black arms sweep down Jack's torso to the hem of his pants, where they tuck in. The wraith pauses only briefly before digging in, dragging them off forcefully, barely managing to unbutton and unzip them before dragging them completely off, his motions becoming ravenous and hungry. There is a flicker of fear that passes through Jack's eyes, and though it's gone in a second, Gabe adores it, as revealed by the smile he still wears. Smoke clouds the distance between them, which isn't much, but it's thin enough that Jack gets en eyeful of what's going on, and how good Gabriel looks up close, even with the occasional glimpse of a scar here and there. A small laugh rolls out of Gabe as the pants come off, and seconds later, the boxers beneath. Jack is every bit as ready as he remembers, needy and hungry for him. _They didn't call him a super soldier for nothing,_ he thought, oblivious that Jack thought exactly the same thing as he looked down at the shade who looked ready to devour him.

Then, the man releases him and sits upright on his knees, looming over Jack as his two normal hands begin the task of unbuckling his belt, while the other two dangle almost menacingly besides them. There's a look in Reaper's eyes, red and hot, lustful and starving. _He's a horrendously gorgeous monster,_ Jack thinks. Then, Gabriel's pants are down and off, along with everything beneath, exposing him to the man beneath him. A visible shudder rolled through Jack's frame, causing a dark chuckle to rumble out of Reaper, who leaned forward and forced another aggressive kiss onto his lips.

“Gabe-” Jack panted, “It's been a while since I...”

“ _Don't worry, Morrison. I can be gentle._ ”

Somehow, there was doubt in Jack's eyes.

Then, Gabriel then looked down between them, raising a brow some. _“Though, not if I have to do it dry...”_ And by that, Jack knew exactly what it was the wraith wanted. Clumsily, he reached over and fumbled around one of his nightstands and jerked out a drawer. Within, a tube of lubricant found its way into his hand, and then was hurriedly rushed into Gabe's. His eagerness made Gabe smirk.

He should have known that Jack still had his little vices to tend to, even now when he had become so bitter towards the world and everything in it. Even now, he craved at least a little bit of what Gabriel used to offer him. And here he was, offering it again. Jack was all but begging for it with his eyes and the way his lips were parted just faintly, panting out heated, excited breaths. Gabriel pooled a small amount of the lubricant into his hand and then reached down, smoothing it first over himself with a stifled groan of need, opposite hand slipping down between Jack's legs. While the two more ghostly limbs coaxed Jack's thighs apart, the other touched at first incredibly lightly over the man's neglected, aching length, and then further down, teasing over his sack, drawing slowly closer to the opening so as to prepare him. The man beneath him shuddered, wetting his tongue as his eyes half-lidded, sucking in a breath between his teeth, watching Gabriel get to work. Finally, only when he was coated did that slick hand drop down to replace the other, smoothing the substance over Jack's tight, anxious hole. At first, all he did was coax his finger over the top of the tight ring, enticing a few gasps out of Jack until the man growled at him.

“ _Christ, Gabe. I ain't got all night..._ ” Which made Gabriel laugh a dark chuckle.

“ _You have as long as I want, don't you?_ ” Reaper crooned back, and with the dark words, Jack felt his knees go weak with want. His brows lofted on his forehead, the strength gone from his voice and features as Gabriel leaned over him, shadowing him by his bulk and the sheer volume of shade that radiated off of his form, curling affectionately around what could be considered its prey. Finally, Gabriel dared to push in that finger, pulling a sudden gasp out of Jack, and moreso, when he ventured deeper. A strangled curse sounded out of the soldier as Gabe pressed forward, deepening even still and curling his finger up against the other's prostate, making his toes curl and his head fall back.

“ _F-fuck. Gabe. I don't know if I'm ready..._ ” Jack warns, and Gabe curls his finger again as he speaks, voice raspy and ghostly.

“ _Do you want me to stop?_ ” And Jack, almost before Gabe could finish the words, snapped his eyes onto his, blue glaring into glowing red stare.

“ _Don't you dare._ ” He replies. Gabriel smiles and his efforts redouble themselves, one shadowed hand abandoning Jack's thigh to reach up and cup around the Soldier's Adam's apple, tightening in a way that causes his head to fall back again. He tries Gabriel's strength in a testing way and is pleased to find himself properly trapped. Before he knew it, another finger had joined the first, and a loud groan pulled out of Jack, his back arching off the bed and into Reaper's fuming frame, thicker now with his need. While one hand invaded him, the other three kept Jack pinned down, not only by the throat, but at his wrists as well, refusing to let him touch the way he so clearly wanted to. When Gabe finally withdrew his fingers, they kissed again, and he moved forward, positioning himself just outside, letting Jack feel the tip of him there.

Seconds later, Gabe had had enough teasing, and finally pushed forward. The man's body gave a little resistance, but after a moment, a loud peel of pleasure sounded out of them both as Gabe finally won out, sinking in and grinding himself deeply into Jack, a satisfied smile pouring itself onto his lips. A small string of curses rolled out of Jack, whose body had tightened up and curled against Gabriel in response, brows pinched, thighs clamped onto either side of his hips. Those hips soon began to piston, driving against and into Jack with feverish need. With each passing moment, Jack's boans grew louder, and louder still until Gabe's hand released his throat just to clamp it over his lips instead.

“ _Shh. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you get in over your head, Jackie._ ” Reaper whispers darkly into his ear, driving harder against him and making Jack muffle moans into his palm. Finally, his hands release Jack's wrists, and all at once those arms are around him, digging into him and bringing him close. Gabe's claws return the favor, coming around Jack's torso and holding him firm as he gets into him. Hotly, they breathe into one another as they have each other there in the dark. The Soldier breathes Gabriel in like an intoxicating perfume, getting himself all too familiar with this creature that Gabe has become over the years, and indulging himself now in ways he had only fantasized of doing before. The two consumed one another in this way, eventually locking lips again as they both drew closer to their inevitable peaks. As Jack broke down in a cacophony of moans and shuddered breaths, Reaper devolved beyond words into growling, huffing breaths that sounded starved and aggressive, an intimidating but alluring thing that Jack needed more of.

Jack came first, breaking away from the kiss and gasping into the night air as the bed rocked loudly against the wall, probably giving them away regardless how quiet Gabe wanted them to be. Callused hands fastened onto Gabe's arms, taut and tight on the man and the bed around him, holding on as he rode out his climax. The wraith's eyes were like burning red torches of light even when he closed them, lighting up the darkness in small flashes as he looks down over his old lover, shadowed arms gripping onto Jack's thighs and holding him tightly as bucked the last few thrusts into him as hard as he could manage, tendrils of black miasma wafting in the air between and all around them, capturing the entire bed in its cloud. He didn't even bother to pull out of Jack as he came, panting into the air between them as he held himself there, suspended over Jack as two of his arms kept him aloft. There was a thin sheen of sweat on Gabe's torso, though it was hard to say if it was from Jack's hot breath or the friction between them that had caused it. Gabriel certainly felt warmer than usual.

As they laid there exhausted and spent, Jack began to laugh faintly, and Gabe lifted his head only a little to regard him. His eyes had gone back to normal, and his extra arms had disappeared with most of his extra shadow. Jack's legs had unlocked from the man and now sat open on either side of his hips.

“ _What?_ ” Reaper rumbled at him, and Jack looked over, then up at the ceiling.

“It's just... Look at this, Gabe. Look at _us_. Look at everything that's happened.” The Soldier trails off for a moment as Gabe pushes himself up to his elbows to look at the man. Jack continues. “I wanted so long to hate you, Gabe. I wanted to hate what you'd done and the things that happened to Overwatch. I wanted to take back everything I'd said and how much I trusted you, and how much I loved you, feeling like... Somehow I had lost you or maybe that I never knew you at all. I tried so hard to stay distant, to keep my guard up, to be strong, I guess... I wanted to be loyal to the people I felt like hadn't done anything wrong... But in the end, here I am, wrapped up with you again like nothing bad ever happened.”

“Jackie...” Gabe started, not sure he liked where Jack was going with this.

“No, no just wait. Just let me finish...” He paused, the looked back at Gabe, making sure their eyes locked. “I guess what I'm saying is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I blamed you for all of this, when it wasn't even your fault. I'm sorry I turned on you, Gabriel, when everyone was pointing their fingers at you. I should have known you better, I should have trusted my gut when I couldn't believe you'd done it. I should have trusted what we had between us, but I didn't, and I let it tear us apart... I'm sorry, Gabe. I feel like... Maybe somehow this was inevitable, like... Maybe..” The man trails off again, not wanting to finish the statement, afraid that he'll trigger some sort of bad luck or something. Gabe smiles faintly, knowing where Jack had been going with it.

 

“That maybe we were meant to be together regardless of what happened?”

 

“ _... Yeah._ ”

 

For a long moment their eyes remain locked before they kiss again, this time deeper and more meaningful.

Gabriel stays in his room that night, sleeping with him until the early morning hours when Jack's alarm goes off to wake him. As he dresses, Gabe notices something just barely revealed inside a dresser drawer. He knows what it is without daring to touch it or say anything to rouse the groggy Soldier nearby as he peaks within. Its an SEP shirt. His shirt, to be specific. Gabe can see his own initials, and the number 75 gleaming in almost perfect, if worn embroidery from where it sits folded... Jack kept it, all this time? After all these years, he had it? His guitar, his shirt, his beanie... Gabe begins to understand something unspoken. Jack had not merely done Overwatch to help people, but for Gabe as well. Gabe had always been Jack's focus, his desire... Overwatch was just something that _Gabe_ had wanted to do, and Jack got swept up in it all the same. At risk of ruining whatever early morning mood they had, Gabe says nothing, smiling quietly to himself, flattered by the realization and taking his leave, floating away and leaving Jack to finish waking up alone.

 

Minutes after the man is gone, Jack turns over in his bed and eyes the far nightstand and stretches to reach it, dragging himself towards the edge of the bed until it's in his grasp. He fumbles inside of the bottom drawer until his fingers find what they seek.

 

It's a small box covered in black velvet, and he opens it, staring inside.

 

They're as bright now as the day he bought them, years ago.

 

Titanium, platinum and white gold mixed with a single diamond beset into the metal of each one, a pair of men's wedding rings for a time long, long past.

 

Why had he kept them?

 

...Was there still time?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys!  
> The last couple weeks have been pretty busy for me but I'm going to try and keep chapters coming out on time as we go into this heavy holiday season. Bare with me!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and let me know if you find any spelling errors I may have missed ^^


	35. Remedy

~

 

Gabriel sat upright in his bed, a hand massaging his face as he worked away an ache without any proof from behind his eyes. Everything hurt, at least a little bit, like he'd run too much recently and every muscle screamed with rebuke. The Overwatch base in Switzerland was a living, breathing beast that never slept, and even now at six in the morning, he could hear the distant cacophony of new recruits training and aids working out in the halls. The bed shifted with weight, and behind him, Jack came awake, his blond hair poking out from beneath the covers as his eyes crack open, bright blues landing on Gabe's back as he smiles.

“ _Hey there, Commander._ ” The Strike Commander teases him lewdly, sitting up and scooting forward so that he can wrap his arms around him. But, the man flinches away, twitching as if the touch actually hurts.

“Not today, Jack.” Gabriel growled as he stood up and moved away, already starting the process of getting dressed. Jack has seen the look of pain in Gabriel's eyes before, and though they're not at war, it has become recently obvious to him that something is going on with him.

“What is it?” Jack asked, trying for some kind of explanation. It didn't work as much anymore, and by the way Gabriel ignored him, it didn't look like it was going to work this morning either. “Gabe?” Jack asked again.

“ _What?_ ” Gabe replied in a voice that was hardly his own. Jack had seen it now a few times, but it had been becoming more apparent over the last few weeks.

“...Hey. Don't be like that. I know you're not all that fond of this base, but-”

“It isn't the base, Morrison.”

 _Morrison._ Gabe rarely called him that anymore.

“Well what is it then?” Jack presses, his voice growing more firm.

Gabriel rolls his eyes as he buttons up his pants, head canting to the side as he looked into a mirror. His eyes felt like they'd been bleeding, though there was no proof of it. He stalked away into the bathroom, shutting the door with a small slam behind him. Warm water bathed over his face as he cupped steaming pools up to it over and over, hoping to soothe the ache. It helped marginally. Maybe it _was_ the base. He hated it here. The base itself was a maze, and more importantly, there was no Underwing. Since it was to be a publicly recognized facility, Jack and Ana had thought it would be safer to keep Blackwatch's official dealings elsewhere. That effectively meant that Gabriel had no reason to be here. He had no prisons here, no chambers, no briefing room... Nothing. The one thing he _did_ have had been taken from him, and now, that base was used almost as a back up.

He felt like he must be deteriorating, inside and out, not unlike his relationship with Jack.

The door cracked open behind him, and he felt the weight of Morrison's stare on his back as he stood there. Their eyes met through the mirror, and Gabriel growled.

“What do you _want_ , Morrison?”

“Gabe... You're not alright.”

“ _Funny of you to notice_.”

“ _What?_ ” Jack is taken aback by the accusing tone.

“ _Nothing_. Don't worry about it, Jack. You have more important matters.” Gabe said as he made an attempt to slip past Jack to get into the other room.

“No! No. I don't.” Jack snapped and suddenly stepped into Gabe's path, blocking him.

Every muscle along Gabe's torso twitched as he struggled, restraining himself from the angry, aggressive punch he wanted to throw.

“ _Move_.” Gabriel warned fiercely.

“Just tell me what is the _matter,_ Reyes.” Jack demanded, and Gabriel almost snarled at him.

“ _Get out of my way._ ”

“ _No._ ”

Gabriel had never been a man of much patience, and now, there was this pretty boy in his way, this Strike Commander... This man who had somehow taken everything he had earned and turned it against him. Jack Morrison had taken everything from him, including his heart.

“ _I'm getting help for it, just like you ordered. Don't worry your pretty little heart about it, Jackie._ ” Gabriel seethed, lifting an arm and using it to nudge Jack out of the way and brushing past him to finish getting dressed. Jack looked appalled and hurt. Guilt sinks into Gabe, infuriating him even further. Jack says nothing, getting dressed in a haste, across the room from him, then stopping at the door right before he leaves.

“I'm not so sure the help is working, Reyes. Maybe they need to up the dosage.” He snaps before heading out, slamming the door behind him.

Gabriel became a small cloud of fury then, grabbing the nearest item to him and sending it flying across the room with an audible crack of glass and leaving it on the floor in a broken heap.

 

It was the picture of he, Jack and Ana together.

 

In the limelight, Jack looks good. He's all smiles and waves to the people who need to see it. Every small victory is something they praise him for. Eventually, a statue is erected in honor of him, and Gabriel stared on in muted disinterest as the blond was congratulated. Once more, the delegates and officials of some worth almost unanimously seemed to pass over the venomous seeming Reyes beside him. Ana's pleasant chatter made it so that he almost didn't have to speak, and he much preferred it. These people were the same people who had seen to overthrow him in the first place, after all.

 _Jack did this for you,_ a small voice whispered into his mind. _He did this so that you wouldn't have to. You wanted this, didn't you?_ Gabriel's eyes turn down. _Yes. Yes, he wanted this. Why should he care what the public thought of him? Maybe Jack was right. The medicine wasn't working. Moira would have to do more. She'd have to fix him, fix Gabriel, and make Jack happy again._

Behind closed doors, Jack showed signs of his own suffering. The world was a critical place, and as Gabriel used more and more tactics meant to make life for Jack easier, the blond struggled, more and more, to cover up those tactics. Was this video proof of Blackwatch's unethical treatment of prisoners? Was this intelligence really worth the pain involved in getting it? Why were they suddenly under investigation for blackmail? Why were there prison facilities in third world countries with Blackwatch inmates in them? Moreover, was Overwatch involved in the explosions used to get them out?

Bit by bit, the world began to sink into madness. Overwatch's reputation began to soil with it, and Jack covered _everything_. Necessary extractions, he'd say. Crucial intelligence, he'd remind. The difference in the battles might have all come down to the right interrogation. All of these acts had produced good results, he'd argue. Jack trusted Gabriel to do whatever he could... And Gabriel did whatever he _needed_. It was _why_ he was hired to do this in the first place. Do it quieter, Jack urged, making Gabriel feel strangled.

 

_Fix it._

_Fix the world._

 

_Jack is suffering, but not for long. We'll make it right._

_Moira will help._

 

Up the dosage she did, and even more, Reaper became Gabriel. Reaper was ruthless, to the point, and effective. No one wanted to sit in a room with a fuming man with a gun, a man who couldn't die, no less. Sure, Gabe didn't tell anyone that, but it had become a small rumor among the Blackwatch recruits. Though, those rumors were usually _ended_ before they could get far. What was it if one more soldier ran his mouth and just happened to get sent into a battle he couldn't possibly hope to win? Was that evac ship a few seconds too late?

 

_What a tragedy._

 

Bit by bit, Gabriel began to hate his life. Nothing he did was right in Jack's eyes, and everything he did with the hopes to make the blond happier only made Jack more miserable. It wasn't long before both of them had fiery, raging tempers to match each other.

 

And yet... Jack still came to his bedroom at night.

Sex was the one thing they could find to soothe each other, a pleasant intermission in their venomous, aggressive relationship. Both struggled against one another, still so completely in love, but miserable for reasons they couldn't explain, both trying to find some kind of anesthesia to their pain, and failing in the wake of each misstep.

 

~

 

If Gabriel had just been honest with Jack, none of this would have happened, Gabriel thinks as he lays in his room in wake of the most recent memory. If he had just _trusted_ Jack with knowing what was going on. Jack loved him, and would have understood. They could have found him _real_ help. They could have gotten rid of Moira and repaired everything between them, and Overwatch would have stayed intact. If he hadn't been so scared...

Gabriel rolls over, the heartache rolling through him as he considers what he caused. He betrayed Jack. Sure, he was manipulated into it, but, he still _did_ it. Now, here they were, years later, so much time lost, and though they'd had a wonderful night two nights before, Gabe couldn't help feeling sick to his stomach over the realization of how it happened. Edaly had told him how it had happened, and yet, he had not really understood how sick he had become. He had done hideous things... Criminal things. Why? What could he have possibly expected to happen?

Shoving himself out of bed, his eyes flick up the the holo-screen nearby. He has a debrief in an hour, which leaves him just enough time to get cleaned up. _It was in the past now, and there was nothing he could do to rectify that. Sooner or later, he'd have to pay for what he'd done._

But in the meantime... Those who turned him into this monster would pay for their hand.

 

Gabriel's wearing full tactical gear as he sits in the command's debriefing room, hood and mask off, looking towards a lit holo-screen. It's showing the omnic quarter of King's Row. Jaelen is sitting next to him. She's dressed in a red hoodie, black pants, spiked combat boots, brass knuckles tucked into her pocket, twin pistols strapped on at either hip. Tracer is with them too, sitting across from them, beside Angela, both dressed in tactical gear.

“Sombra says that Talon is possibly planning an attack here in the omnic quarter. We're not sure on the details... Obviously, she has to be careful now with her prying for information now that Talon knows she works for us. It's possible that they have another hacker working for them now, so we need to be careful as well.

She suspects an attack because there are three ships flying to this location,” The gorilla says, indicating with a pointer to a section deep within the omnic highrises, “Two of which are stealth ships, not unlike those used in attacks. The third is... Commercial. We suspect the intend to use it in order to avoid any hostile appearances. It's possible that they're not here to attack, but to abduct.”

“Abduct?” Gabriel asks, head tilting. He can't recall any targets they had there, which makes it seem odd to him.

“It's possible. We don't know for sure.”

“So what exactly is our job here?” Jaelen asks forwardly.

“Observe and intervene if they actually attempt to take anyone. Find out what they're doing there. This is a stealth mission. Reyes, because Talon does not yet know you're alive, we think it's safer if you observe from a distance. You are not to leave the ship unless you have no other option... Because Talon is your experience, you'll be co-leading this mission with Angela.”

“...Co-leading, Winston?” Reaper sounds mildly stunned.

“If you think you can't handle it, Reyes-”

“ _I can handle it._ ” Reaper rebukes quickly. It puts a small amount of pride into him. _Finally, some recognition._

 

Gabriel had never seen this part of Kings Row except from a distance. The skyrises were tall and brilliant glowing hues of green and blue, modern and technological, all gleaming in the after-sun hours before midnight. The light that radiated off of them reminded him vaguely of the Northern Lights he'd only ever seen in photographs. Gabriel sits in the cargo bay of one of their dropships next to Jay, who is understandably hunkered down. The flight from Italy to Kings Row wasn't excruciatingly long, but long enough that she decided it was time for a nap the second that they boarded. Inside, the light was dimmed, kept so as to keep them stealthy. From outside, they were invisible, though as usual, the UN was made well aware of this mission. They always were, as a precaution to keep Military out of the way. Every Overwatch ship had been equipped with a marker that could be tracked, in itself, something of a weakness, should anyone _not_ on their side ever learn to identify the marker and what it meant, but for now, the UN and Winston both agreed that it was necessary. Gabriel was in no place to argue, though he would of course much prefer to be operating under complete secrecy. Lena sat at the opposite end of the cabin, staring out into the city, her eyes darting from rooftop to city street widely.

“It's been years since I've seen it like this. Just as good from down there.” She glanced over towards Gabriel, who's mask is still off for the time being. “Have you ever seen it before, Reyes?”

“Only from afar.” He replies quietly so as not to disturb Jay.

Tracer's eyes flick back to the window. “I used to go here all the time, when I was younger. Didn't look like this though... Everything's... Changed.”

Gabriel supposes that tends to happen when time travel is involved. “Sometimes around the holidays, Emily and I will go on into the city. See some omnic shows. The music is _incredible._ ” The speedster continues. “Ranges us humans can never reach. Some we can't even _hear_. They have these special...” Her had gestures near one of her ears as she speaks, “Head devices you can wear so that you can hear it right. Holograms and holo-screens everywhere. So many different languages...”

“Languages?” Gabe echoes curiously, and Lena looks back at him.

“Omnic languages... You didn't really think there was just one, did you?” She giggles somewhat and looks back. Gabriel does not reply. Omnics have never really been his concern. And, why should they? He had been fighting them for years. Omnics, and their war, was the only reason he started fighting in the first place. Yet... Even he had to admit that over the years, he had come to accept them. Even in Blackwatch, he had come to accept the rebels as their own kind. As to whether or not they were actually sentient and not merely cleverly programmed... Well, he still wasn't sure about that. Now, he was about to enter a city full of them. Well, Tracer and Jay was. _He wasn't suppose to leave the ship, after all._ Angela might leave the ship, but even then, she would be lingering far behind the other two, waiting until she was needed, if she was needed at all.

Gabriel monitors small cameras on drones that have been released by the ship to survey the area. Eight screens shine down at him, two of which are primed on Jay and Lena. The two look like casual cityfolk as they walk down an alleyway. Both have hoods up, shades on, their weapons hidden. Tracer has hidden most of her mechanics beneath a dusty blue hoodie, hanging over the top hem of punky, brightly colored pants beneath and simple tennis shoes. The two look like they fit right in next to one another, though Jaelen is significantly spikier than Tracer is.

“ _I don't see anything._ ” Lena calls over the comm device quietly. Her head is on a swivel, looking for anything that might give away Talon activity. They were in the right area. It's just outside of a play theater, whose music booms loudly enough to be heard three blocks away.

“Keep your eyes open.” Gabriel advises. “Talon rarely uses front entrances... Check the back of the Theater, but don't let yourselves be seen. It's possible that they aren't here yet, or, that they might have gotten here early. One of you will have to go inside.”

“ _I'll do it._ ” Jaelen says confidently, but Gabriel has other plans.

“Don't. Tracer is smaller, faster, and can get in and out unseen. She has more experience. Don't be so eager to be brave, Jaelen. Keep an eye on the back door. If anyone leaves, tail them until you can be sure they're not Talon.”

“How will I know?”

“Talon agents usually have some kind of... Tell. You'll know them when you see them. They'll seem suspicious.”

“ _Right,_ ” He hears Jay murmur, clearly not impressed with the description, but she doesn't argue. At once, the two head for the back of the theater, and in minutes, Tracer is inside. No one comes or leaves while she's in there, and eventually she exits with a faint shake of her head.

“ _No agents. At least none that I recognized from our scans. I could do another-_ ”

 

 _ **BANG**_.

 

A loud eruption of smoke explodes forward from the main foyer of the theater, exploding the glass outwards and causing people to scatter away from the theater. All at once, there are screams, and Gabe scans the multiple monitors of the floating drones.

Chaos.

This was the exact kind of plan Reaper himself would have used, he realizes as he looks on. As people panic, he knows that they'll start rushing towards the exit, opposite of the explosion... Where Tracer and Jay stand, waiting for any would-be Talon agents.

“Get out of there, now!” Gabriel barks into the comms. “Don't let anyone see you, let alone detain you!” It could still be an abduction, and if Talon was trying to snag one of them as they had before, they very well could manage to do it in this madness. Moreover, no one could see them here, lest Overwatch somehow be pinned for the apparent bombing.

Jay and Tracer both bolted away from the building, drones swarming to catch every hint of the action. Then, Gabriel saw her a _second_ before she took the shot. Another loud bang ricocheted off the walls of the street as Widowmaker took a shot, putting someone down, someone he didn't recognize. Another careful diversion, as a small group of black-clad Talon agents suddenly filtered in, seemingly out of no where and latched onto a fleeing person in the crowd. An asian woman with long black hair, flawless make-up and bright blue eyes.

“Lena! North side of the building- Talon has a woman in custody, they are taking her away, stop them! Jay, I'm sending one of the drones after Widowmaker. It isn't equipped with weapons, but it will lead you to her. Follow her!”

“ _Oh Right, like THAT'S a smart idea, send ME after the best sniper in the world- great idea boss!_ ” Jay snaps sassily through the comms back at him as she tears off in pursuit of the sniper. She scales a ladder after the drone, and manages to leap from one building to the next, barely catching herself, and for a moment, Gabriel thinks she might fall to her death, until somehow miraculously, she's able to haul herself up over the side and resume the pursuit. Widowmaker is on the run, well aware that she's being followed. Jay stops, drawing out one of her pistols.

“DO NOT ENGAGE!” Gabe shouts. “I said follow her, Carter! If you stop again, she will kill you without a second thought. Go!” He barks, and with something of a defiant growl, the girl is off again. His eyes switch the the monitor beside it, where Tracer is making quick work of the five guards who have latched onto some unknown woman, who of course screams. Soon, a shout goes up from Tracer as well, and a small flash of blood sprays from one of her arms. Her weapon drops, and Angela suddenly arrives on the scene, weapon in one hand, staff in the other. Though many of the Talon agents have scattered, it's clear that Tracer and Angela cannot do this alone, especially with a hostage.

Gabriel has to make a call, and it isn't an easy one. If they fail, Talon takes the unknown woman and probably gets away, leaving Angela and Tracer both injured, and Overwatch without the information they need. If Widowmaker gets away, they won't know where she was headed, what ship she brought, or who came with her. There's a lot at stake by letting her escape... But...

“Jaelen. Abandon pursuit. Back up Angela and Lena on the north side. I will head off Widowmaker myself.” He suddenly growls, throwing on his mask and abandoning the dropship. He hears a bark of complaint from the other end of his comm, but doesn't stop to argue. He knows that he's the only one stealthy enough here to help them get all of the information they need, despite his orders. It only takes Reaper a few seconds to catch up to where Jaelen just was, teleporting between shadows to reach the spot with ease, and soon, he sees it, the stealthed ship landed on a large rooftop nearby. Widowmaker is approaching it casually now that Jaelen has abandoned her chase. The ship itself might well not be there, if the open hatch door didn't destroy it's illusion. Gabe's seen it so many times now that he knows exactly what he's looking for. Using the night air as his cover, Gabriel finds his way into the vents of the ship easily, and assumes his shape as an unseen cloud within the mechanics, eavesdropping on their conversation as Widowmaker arrives.

Inside, a bulky shadow steps into the light, a gleaming metal fist the first thing that Gabriel sees.

“What _happened_ , Amelie?” Akande growls.

“We were... Expected, it seems.” The widow hardly seems impressed by Akande's intimidation.

“Expected? _Overwatch?_ ”

“Overwatch, or someone. I can't be for certain. Not the Shimada boy, at least, not this time.”

“And the girl?”

“Your incompetent fools could not handle whoever came for them. I did not see, myself.”

Just then, a holo-screen on the distant wall of the ship lights up. It's cracking and almost inaudible, but there none the less. One of the Talon Agents has activated a camera on his helm in a pathetic cry for assistance. In the footage, they spot Tracer, along with Angela in all of her golden, healing glory... And her pistol. That painfully accurate pistol of hers. Akande growls and looks back at Amelie sharply.

“I trusted _you_ to take care of this Tracer girl. Why have you not killed her yet? Now, Overwatch is here, and they have secured our target. If you had simply _ended_ Sombra as you were ordered-”

“Sombra is not the problem.” Widowmaker sighs as she steps up to him. “It's _you_. The fact that you could not simply trust me to tranquilize the woman in her home before she ever left- the fact that you expected the Cowboy to be so easily taken-”

Suddenly, she was struck so hard that she fell to the ground with a yelp. She glares suddenly back towards Akande, who rubs the back of his knuckles oddly with the metallic fist. Reaper feels rage bubble to the surface of his skin, but he controls himself only barely.

“ _You_ are not _stable_ , Widowmaker.”

“ _The Council-_ ”

“The council _agrees_ with me, LaCroix. You're a loaded gun. Our job is to aim you-”

“ _I obey Talon. Talon is my family-_ ”

“I AM TALON NOW.” He suddenly shouts loud enough to make her flinch against the ground. Glaring at her, he finally turns away. “You disappoint me. For all your talents, you are distracted. Do as you are ordered, and you might still have a purpose here. Kill Oxton. Capture the woman. Without her, we have no leverage over him.”

_Him? Him who?_

Widowmaker said nothing as she glared at him, and with his back to her, she could hear the familiar clink of glass and liquid. When he turned around, the tall man had a strangely charismatic smile on his lips. The kind he wore when he was trying to impress skeptical backers. With his normal hand he reached down and helped Amelie to her feet, pulling her up. She took the offered hand, and seconds later, the drink he pushed into her hands.

“With Oxton out of the way, and Overwatch being distracted and... Split up, we can still manage this war.”

“...And the Cowboy?” Amelie asks as she sips from the drink, ignoring the bruise forming darkly on her cheek. Akande tilts his head somewhat, brushing the back of his fingers along the bruise almost gently before she looks away from him.

“The cowboy will be ours in time. Once he loses faith in the organization and goes to find Shimada himself, we'll have him easily.”

“And what are _you_ going to do?” She counters finally.

“What Reaper _should_ have done. Put a final end to the _old soldiers._ Without Soldier and Ana to give him advise, Winston will be easy to crumble alone. Once Overwatch is done, it will be easy to finish what we've started.”

Jesse was in danger, as was Lena, and the woman who, apparently, they had been trying to abduct. Who were they trying to get to with her? That Doomfist intended to come after Ana and Jack alone was expected, really, but that he was actively planning to do it was somewhat alarming at any rate.

The engines of the ship whir to life, and Gabriel takes his cue to flee before the ship leaves with him in it. As much as he wants to know where they're going, he doesn't have time to find out. As a cloud, he abandons the ship with everything he's learned, barking across the comms as soon as he's far enough away.

“I have information. Get the hostage back to the shi-”

“ _Already on it, Gabe. Waiting for you._ ” Jay replies shortly. She had a lot of work to do on etiquette, and Gabe makes a point to teach her such in their next training session. Aboard the ship, he tells them everything he's just learned as he removes his mask and they take off into the night.

The woman, they soon learn, is named Yasmine Singh. She's not anyone of any real rapport, but she gives away something crucial during the flight.

“My husband. GNX2... He's-”

“ _An omnic?_ ” Gabe asks incredulously, and her eyes snap sharply towards him. “Yes. An Omnic. Should I ask why a renowned Terrorist is aboard an Overwatch ship? No. Like it or not, some of us aren't stuck in the barbaric past, Reaper.” Her attitude is sharp, and it stings. The woman continues as she looks back to Angela. “My husband is a skilled networking engineer. He mostly works freelance for various companies, but three days ago he went missing.”

“Your husband went missing, and you decided to go to an opera?” Jaelen grunts. _“Nice._ ”

“Who _are_ you people?” Yasmine snaps aggressively. “I went there because it was something we did regularly... I guess you could say I've been afraid that he left me, or that... I wasn't enough. He struggles sometimes with the idea of how humand and omnics age differently. I suppose you could say I was insecure about our relationship. I thought if I went there, maybe he would show up. The authorities are doing everything to find him of course, but-”

“But Talon has him.” Gabriel finishes for her, glancing towards Jaelen, who still seems soured by him stopping her from opening fire on Widowmaker. Gabe looks back to Angela as well. “Jack and Ana are being focused by Doomfist, and Lena... Apparently Widowmaker is meant to be coming after you herself. If Mrs. Signh is any indication, you should bring Emily back to Overwatch. Somewhere safe.”

“...Emily's got school and work and-”

“ _Lena._ ”

“Alright, Alright! I'll uh... I'll let her know. “

“Gabriel, are you sure that Winston is going to be okay with all of these new.. Acquisitions? Overwatch is not simply a refuge for people in danger.” Angela prompts, and Gabriel shrugs.

“We don't have much choice now, do we? He didn't exactly give me a better location to send them. I don't anticipate he expected that we'd have many, if any. This changes a lot of things. I will have to warn Jesse as well.”

Angela nods.

“Alright. I will get on the secure channel and translate to them... You should get some rest, you're looking...”

Gabriel looks down at himself. Pale, clawed. Teleporting that much and staying a mist for such a time has starved him only a little bit, which in part explains why Yasmine continues to gawk at him in equal parts horror and disgust. He paces away from her and sits across the cabin, pulling his hood up so that it shadows half of his face, the light from the Omnic Quarter fading in the distance as they leave. Jay, seeing the snarky glare the woman is giving him, slides across the space towards her and leans forward, near to Yasmine's face, then utters something that Gabe can hear across the room.

“ _So you know, he's the one who decided to get you out of here. I'd wipe that shit-face off your painted lips if I were you._ ”

Yasmine's eyes pop somewhat and she looks away, embarrassed, perhaps a little ashamed.

Later, before they depart the ship, she would apologize to Gabriel before Angela leads her off to be properly debriefed. Winston would ultimately decide to house her on Fiji, and Emily as well, since they were not _actually_ Overwatch operatives. Moreover, Talon hadn't discovered Fiji yet, and it was unlikely that they were going to.

 

Sombra, meanwhile, offered up some key details.

 

“Jinx, they call him. GNX2 is his ID, if you want to be technical. But in the business?” She shrugs. “He's not bad. Not as good as me, but not bad.”

“He's a hacker?” Jack asks as he sits across from her, Gabriel nearby.

“Something like that. Sure, he's licensed as a networking engineer, but his tech allows him to get in an out of information systems easily, so much so that he may as well be one of them. He integrates himself like a virus, then gets out when his job is done. Yasmine is his wife, and my guess is that they were going to use her to... _Convince_ him to cooperate. It supports the theory that they're looking for someone to replace me.” Sombra laughs gently. “ _As if it were so simple._ ” The hacker shrugs and navigates to a few pictures of the omnic as found around the web. Like pictures of sasquatch, most of them are blurry and hard to discern, and none of them are exactly the same. “Like me, he's had upgrades over the years, making him faster and harder to detect. He's always had a strange love of theater and music. It somewhat became a calling card of his a few years ago, where he kept leaving small musical numbers at the end of files when he was investigating the Vishkar. It's probably how Talon found him, honestly. Calling cards are just a footprint, after all. A mistake I learned to eliminate quickly. And, we already know that Talon has had at least a few ties with the Vishkar, even if the organization does attempt to make some good progress in the world... It's clear that they have a few things in common with Talon- at least, some of their higher ups. I can't speak for the individuals, of course.”

“What do you figure they'll do with him?” Winston asks at the head of the room.

“With Jinx?” Sombra looks down, brows raised as she exhales something of a sigh. “I don't know. If they wanted his wife, it means he's resisting. So, nothing good. They might try to reprogram him.”

“What does that entail, exactly?” Gabe presses, and Sombra meets his look.

“Listen, I know that more than a few of you are... Skeptical of omnics. I can't say I'm one of them- I'm not, but I've known them for a very long time. Let me explain this as best I can. A way that you might understand. We all start out as children, yes? Told what to do, how to do it, what's right and what's wrong. We're told what languages to speak, and how to associate with other people. That is what an omnic's programming _does_ , technically. But... How they use that information is what makes them who they _are,_ no different from how humans use that knowledge themselves. Would you look at, for example, a psychopathic murderer and say, oh, his parents raised him to be that way? No. Of course not. Programming does not make the personality of an omnic. That is for them to decide. That is why, in many countries, they are considered full citizens, full sentience, because the programming inside these omnics is not _like_ the programming of the militarized Bastion robots of the past. They're something else, now. Something that no technology accounted for. Some kind of... Special, deviated anomaly. Some religious people might say it's god's will that these machines now walk among us, as people... I don't know the truth,” Sombra muses, giving her hand a small wave, “but I can tell you that, from my perspective? There is no difference between the omnics and us. No difference, except for the packaging they come in. If they _reprogram_ Jinx... Well, when he wakes up, it'll be like he's just been reborn. He wont have the same memories, the same experiences he's had to make him into who he is. He'll be a fresh box of bolts with shiny new tech, and Talon will be able to tell him whatever they want him to do, and they'll convince him that what he's doing is right...

… They'll effectively be... Killing him.”

 

For a long moment, silence settles among them. It's a heavy topic, and one that Gabe and Jack struggle to swallow as they look at one another. They knew without a word that what she was saying had to be right. During the war, those rebels had displayed traits that both of them had found strangely human. Strangely... Lifelike.

Gabriel had been wrong. They hadn't been traps. That had been real. Real rage and fear behind those lights, real desperation. It had been a question in the back of his mind until now.

Maybe it was time he started looking at them the way they deserved to be looked at.

 

~

 

“She is NOT helping!” Jack roared, hand clenched at his side as he stared down Gabriel, who had his back to him in a way that was, not only insolent towards his superior, but hurtful towards his closest friend and lover. Could Gabe not even look him in the eyes as he defended that _witch?_

“There are NO more nightmares, Morrison!” Gabe growled, pouring himself a drink, one of many that he seemed to have gotten interested in since they changed bases to Switzerland.

“Nightmares or _not,_ you have NOT improved! We need to talk about these!” Jack hissed, throwing down a stack of surveillance photos on the table between them. They were squaring off in Jack's office, where Gabriel had been summoned, _like a dog,_ he thought. Gabriel turns and glaces down at the photos. Images of places that Blackwatch never should have been, yet somehow were. Images of Blackwatch tech somehow ending up in the wrong hands of budding terrorist organizations and other gangs. Prisoners, locked away in foreign prisons being interrogated by known Blackwatch operatives. The press obviously wanted answers, and Jack didn't know what to tell them. “How can you explain this? What do you expect me to tell them, Reyes?” The blond snapped.

“Tell them whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me. _I don't exist, remember?_ ”

“What the hell are you on about?”

“This _whole_ thing!” Gabe growls, motioning the office, and the door beyond. “Blackwatch doesn't exist. I don't exist. I don't even have an office. You gave me this role _because_ you wanted me to clean up your messes, didn't you?”

“You- what? Gabe-”

“No. Don't _Gabe_ me. You barely even remember who I am,” The dark man retorted sharply, leaning across the desk. “You wanted the limelight, and now you have it. You put me here to do what we had to do in order to keep the world safe, and I've been doing it!”

“ _Have you?_ ” Jack challenges in an accusing tone, his hand slamming down onto the photos and sliding them forward. “Is that what these are? Keeping the world safe? Selling our tech to outside sources!?”

“That _wasn't_ me!”

“That doesn't matter, Gabriel. It's _your_ watch. You're responsible for what it does and what happens in it. You can't tell me you haven't endorsed some of these- kidnapping, Reyes? Blackmail? Torture?”

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO?” Gabe suddenly yells in a fury. “Sit behind a desk, signing paperwork while you and Ana pull all the strings? Let the world fall into chaos while those with stronger stomachs take sides with the enemy?”

“ _What enemy!?_ These organizations are small and pose no threat to us, and almost no threat to anyone! How can you possibly say that this justifies what you've been doing? Rumor is that Moira's been doing a bit more than mending your troops, Reyes. She was thrown out of the scientific community for a reason!”

“Yes, and you know what? You and I survived the war because of people who were thrown out of the _“scientific community,”_ Morrison. SEP? Did you honestly think that was a legal, government-funded, endorsed military unit? Don't you remember what happened to Katie, or, I don't know, how about your partner, whose arm literally _melted off_ \- But no, you're right. It's unethical. It's inhumane, so lets not do it-” Gabe's hand slams onto the photos and then sends them scattering out to the side and floor as he sweeps them away aggressively. “We're _standing here_ because someone had the balls to fucking take the risk, Morrison-”

“AND HOW MANY DIED, GABE?” The blond shouts, livid with rage. “How many men fought and died along side us? How many men didn't even get the chance to fight before the experiments killed them?! What do you suppose was told to their families? Do you think they were told at all or just left to wonder? Were they even buried? Is anyone still alive who knows or remembers?” And the more Jack spoke, the more infuriated Gabriel became, until he was a growling, animalistic mess, hands clenched at either side. He could almost feel the smoke that Moira put into him trying to stir itself awake, but somehow he managed to suppress it.

“ _No one_ has died because of Moira's tests, Jack! Not one person. She is trying to help me, to help us, because you ASKED me to get help. And now, now that I'm not miserable and the nightmares are gone, you can't do anything but stand there and bitch about the methods we're taking to get these results. You know, you said you put me here because you needed me here. You made it sound so nice- a place where I could do what I needed for _us_ , for _Overwatch._ You made it sound like I'd have my own team that I could work with, just like we did when we defeated them in the first place. Then, after that, you replace all of that with this- this suffocating place where I'm not even a name on a doorway. Face it, Morrison. I've become nothing more than your dirty little secret, and you can't be bothered to put me down like an aggressive dog.”

While Jack had plenty more to say, these last few words shocked him into absolute silence. He loved Gabriel. He had loved him for years now. Decades. They had been through so much, and overcome so many trials... But here Gabe was, throwing that all down the drain to... To what? Defend torture? Defend human experimentation? Defend his watch's rights to do whatever they pleased without repercussions? There is a burning sensation behind Jack's eyes. Gabe has seen him cry before, but for some reason, Jack doesn't want him to see it now. It's like he's talking to a completely different person.

“I have defended you for so many years, Gabriel. I have justified everything you've done, and stood up for you in the face of ridicule and scrutiny. I have been loyal to you since the day I became yours all those years ago... I trusted you to do what was needed to help the world, yes... But I never expected to watch you turn into this... This man that you are now. You have never been a secret to me... But now, I feel like I barely know you anymore. You don't tell me _anything_. You say I did this for some kind of limelight, like I got something out of this- like this was all I wanted.” The blond pauses, looking down. He remembers the way he felt standing there that day with Gabe, when Gabe told him about Overwatch, and about how he was going to do that, instead of going home to pursue a normal life. Jack remembers the wedding rings he bought not a month ago, that now, he's not sure he can give. Gabriel was all he ever wanted. Gabriel, and every part of who he was, then, had been the only thing Jack had never wanted to be without. “I didn't do this for Overwatch, Gabe. I didn't do this for the attention, the statue or some fancy suit. I didn't do this because I cared about saving the whole world. I came here because this is what you wanted. I could have just... Just gone back home and taken over my Grandparent's old farm out in the country. I could have sold that and retired a comfortable, grumpy old man. But, I didn't. Do you know why?”

“I know why.” Gabe rebukes. Jack is interested in hearing what he has to say, so he leans forward and tilts his head.

“Oh?”

 

“You didn't, because you have _nothing and no one_ to go home to.” Gabe practically spits, then turns and storms away from Jack, slamming the door behind him as he leaves the office.

 

Jack, once again shocked into silence, crumbles into an emotional heap seconds later.

 

How has this happened?

 

What happened to Gabriel?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! As usual, please let me know what you think and if you find any spelling errors or anything in the chapter ^^. I hope you don't mind this angst-filled chapter!


	36. Privacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Graphic Torture themes. Angst.

In the days following what has happened, Gabriel feels beside himself. Things are so complicated now, and so dangerous. With Jinx, his human wife, Yasmine, and everything he's learned in such a short time, he struggles to know what to focus on... But something keeps coming back to the forefront of his mind. His idle moments are consumed with thoughts of Jack, and what they'd done. What did this mean now, he wondered? He recalled all of the little items Jack had kept. All of _Gabe's_ things. The guitar... Jack had said he could have it back, and yet, Gabe wasn't sure he wanted to take it back. In truth, he still rather wished it had gone to Rosa... Rosa. Did she even know he was alive? No, probably not, he thought. And... More importantly, should she? Where would this go even if he got through it? Would he ever be able to publicly reveal himself?

He stops the thought there, not wanting to dwell on the what-ifs of the future. He was doing well at the moment, at least for right now. Right now, he's staring at Jack from across the envirodome. The Soldier's doing push-ups in the glass, apparently unaware that Gabriel lurks nearby beneath a tree, watching from the shade. He's wearing a hoodie over an open tanktop and a pair of black jeans and a heavy belt. As usual, he looks overdressed and far too warm, but the black and grey tones of the ensemble suit him for his _current_ task... That is, lurking quietly and watching like a creep.

Minutes later, the sweating soldier glances up just enough to spot Gabe's increasing black cloud from across the area, and he spots red eyes gleaming out from beneath the hood. Jack smirks faintly and moves to stand, wiping sweat from his brow. It's clear to him that Gabe has no idea how much his state gives away his interest. Meanwhile, the wraith seems surprised and ghosts to a stand as Jack approaches him, knowing he's been spotted.

“You should keep this indoors.” Jack says as he steps into the shade, made darker by the clouding, which Reaper suddenly realizes. All at once, it begins to dissipate and he seems mildly embarrassed.

“We are indoors.” Reyes argues with a small shrug, looking away.

“Someone might think you're hungry, Gabe.”

“ _Maybe I am._ ” Reaper responds, and Jack smirks, moving to the side of the tree, and Gabe seems to instinctively move with him, coming around in front of him as Jack leans against the trunk.

“Your eyes give you away...” The soldier replies, trailing off as a hand lands on the bark beside him, half pinning him. “We... uh. We shouldn't do this here. Or now.”

“You seem to like that excuse.” Gabriel muses, sighing and dropping his hand, about to turn away when Jack suddenly leans forward and sneaks his lips beneath Gabe's hoodie, stealing a kiss. Momentarily taken aback by the abrupt affection, Gabe is breathless as his eyes open again, this time, once again brighter than before. Jack smiles brightly as he begins to realize that Gabriel's ghostly state, and his eyes, seem to be at least partially influenced by the man's emotional state. “You _just_ said-” Gabriel starts, but Jack chuckles.

“I know what I said, Gabe.”

Eagerly, Reaper leans back in, wanting more, but Jack lifts a hand, gently pressing it against Gabe's chest. He can feel the man's strength, barely restrained in the muscle beyond, and he struggles not to simply let him do as he pleases. Reluctantly, he pushes just enough that Gabe stops, a frustrated growl of want creeping out of him.

“I just meant... I think we should be careful. Not get in over our heads... We've got a lot going on and all that. I'm... I guess I'm not sure if I'm ready...”

“ _Jackie._ ” Gabe groans, eyes rolling somewhat.

“Gabe... Come on. The other night was-”

“ _Good_ -”

“Crazy.” Jack reminds. “We weren't thinking. We don't know what kind of repercussions this might have.”

“ _Did you just say reapercussions-_ ”

“What? No! Gabe _PAY ATTENTION!_ ” Jack snaps.

“I am!” The ghost sighs again, drawing away finally. “It's just that you sounded fine that night. I said we didn't have to do it if it felt too fast for you, and yet here you are... Backing out-”

“I-I'm not backing out,” Jack stammers, revealing that he enjoyed it more than he hoped to give away. “It's just... This is... Uh. Fast. I want to be sure... Maybe we could go a little slower.”

“ _Slower._ Like what, Jack? A movie on the mess hall screen and a dinner from the cafe?”

“I mean, I would have said _Ghost Hunters_ and _Whiskey_.” Jack teases, and Gabriel laughs almost warmly, effortlessly flirting.

“Oh, so you _do_ still speak my language.”

“Archaic, bad shows, simple alcohol? Your language is easy, Gabe. I'm just saying we should take it easy with this too... We're up against a lot of tough things now... Especially if Doomfist means to come after me and Ana personally. Especially with Tracer under fire by Widow... And if they do reprogram this bot, we could be facing another problem altogether... I just want to be careful.”

And Gabriel meets his stare for a long moment before he chuckles faintly with a small tip of his head. He smiles.

“Alright, Jackie. We'll go slow... But don't blame me if you find yourself crawling into my room in the midnight hours.”

“I have more self control now than I used to-”

“ _Do you?_ ” Gabe counters teasingly, his voice dipping seductively. “I couldn't tell.”

“Well I can't get in unless you authorize me anyway.”

 

Gabriel had authorized him the night after they'd done it, rather waiting to see how long it took the Soldier to notice.

 

“ _Mm, you're right. I guess we have nothing to worry about then._ ” Reaper muses, leaning in quickly to steal another kiss before he wraiths into nothingness and turns away, fading back towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” Jack asks, and Gabriel waves a ghosted hand towards him.

“I have someone to train. I'm sure you can find some entertainment without me for a while.” He teases, and then is gone.

 

It's two days later when Jack finally tests Gabriel's door. He really wanted to wait, to give it time, but the temptation nags at him, and he lets himself in with a surprise. A small smirk curls onto his lips as he notices that the shade is out. Jack helps himself to Gabriel's bar and moves to the couch, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt suggestively while he waits for the man to return.

 

But.

When the door finally opens, Gabriel is not alone.

 

The cowboy's voice assaults Jack's ears immediately as the door opens.

“I'm just saying tha-”

“Jack!” Gabe stammers as he stops, slack-jawed at the door. He's staring Jack down, all lounged there, shirt undone, ready for _something._ His blue eyes are as wide as quarters, filled with an unexpected sort of terror. Gabriel looks on, just as star-struck, and beside him, Jesse roars with a sudden jeer of realization.

“OOOH-WHEE, look at this man!” The cowboy shouts, suddenly laughing. “Gettin' yourself all ready for a midnight snack, were ya? Christ almighty, Reyes, you shoulda told me you were havin' company-”

“I didn't-” Gabe tries, and the two older men struggle to find any coherent words to try and explain what exactly was happening here.

Jack has sat up quickly and began buttoning himself up. “I'll be off if you guys-” His voice makes every effort to be strong and professional, but there was nothing professional about the way he looked, lounged there on Gabe's sofa, ready for a _romp._

“Hey naw! Don't stop on _my_ account- guess I shoulda figured you two were back at it-” The cowboy is almost in tears with his words.

“ _Shut up, Jesse_ ,” Reaper growls, his cheeks flushed darkly as he covers his embarrassed features with a hand beneath the drawn hoodie he has on. The gunslinger grins and wanders off after he claps a hand on the shade's shoulder, slipping out through the door quickly and retreating into his own room.

The door shuts quietly behind Gabriel as he and Jack stare at each other. Seconds later, Jesse's holo-screen has been turned up so loud that it is sure to drown out any noise they might make, a clear joke on the man's behalf. For a long moment, an awkwardness hangs between the two men that is so heavy that Jack's sure he'll suffocate on it soon. Gabe smirks after a long moment and slowly, hesitantly joins Jack on the couch, greeting him with an almost timid kiss.

“Ready for me, were you?” he asks.

Jack, heatedly returns the kiss as he recovers from his shame, swept away by Gabe's affection.

“More than you know.”

 

The session turns feverish seconds later, and all words are abandoned for the taste of the other's tongue. Gabe can't get enough, and Jack lets go of his worries for just one more night, hands clutching and clawing at the wraith over him as they give into one another again, drunk on the lust between them until weariness finally claims them, and they sleep there on the couch together.

 

The next time Gabriel shows his face, it seems like everyone has heard the news. Genji and Angela even seem to know, and Sombra shoots him strange little winks, and Jaelen can't look at Soldier without smirking. The only one who manages to keep a professional face is the stone-faced scientist, Winston. Even Katie and Ana have a few small smiles for him when they see him again.

Gabriel takes his meditation on the small plateau that Genji showed him once again, having not done it properly in weeks, and he wants the quiet. He wants the chill of the night air to remind him that he's alive... Alive, again, and not alone. That finally, he'd found something he lost.

 

~

 

The man on the board gurgled and choked. There was a soaked blue cloth over his mouth that suffocated him slowly. Gabriel held the cloth down, his eyes narrowed as he exhaled a long, slow sort of sigh.

“I can do this all night. It _never_ gets boring.” He crooned, tipping the bucket with his other hand, forcing the prisoner to swallow down even more water than he could manage to. Again, the sound of the man's struggle echoed through the cold metal room that they stood in. Two Blackwatch guards lingered by the door, and the prisoner himself was cuffed down the the table at both ankles and wrists.

It went on for a few more minutes, and still, the prisoner offered up nothing of what Gabriel demanded. He was about to switch from water to something _far_ less forgiving when the door suddenly banged open. Jesse emerged from the shadowed doorway, looking furious.

“ _Boss._ ” He uttered, growling.

Reyes knew something was off by the fire in the man's eyes. The years that have passed have turned Jesse from a boy into a powerful man with his own opinions. Opinions that had begun to differ greatly from Reyes in the last year or so. Like Jack, McCree didn't favor Moira, or what she was doing here, and even though he had no solid proof of the experiments she was performing on the Blackwatch Commander, he had voiced his suspicions more than a couple times, none of which Gabriel had confirmed.

“You're not assigned to this file, Cadet-”

“I know I fuckin' ain't, but I don't care. This aint right and you fuckin' know it.” The gunslinger snaps, his eyes scoped back towards the prisoner.

“Watch it, McCree.” Reyes warned venomously.

“No.” The cowboy snapped.

Gabriel's patience hung on by a thread as their harsh stares met one another. Once again, the Cowboy was interfering with his job... Questioning his authority and his methods, in front of subordinates no less, and in the presence of the prisoner himself. Gabriel had known for a while that there was a growing disgust in McCree for how things were done in Blackwatch, and more than a few times, he had considered transferring him to Overwatch... But... Jack was not overly fond of McCree, and hadn't been ever since Gabriel had adopted him into their organization.

“ _You overstep your bounds, boy._ ” Gabriel growled as he stalked closer to Jesse, who boldly held his ground.

“ _Fuck bounds. You clearly don't got any. At least not anymore. What the hell're you doing here? You ain't any better'n deadlock-”_

Gabriel began to feel his control slipping.

“ _You just take and take, you destroy and corrupt- You weren't like this in the beginnin', you had morals and understandin'! You stood for somethin'!_ _ **Fuckin' look at what you've become!**_ ” As the man started shouting, Gabriel lost control entirely. An animalistic roar seemed to scream out of him as he rushed forward, his hands gripping around the front of Jesse's armor and throwing him backwards against the door with a loud slam. Then, before he realized what was happening, one of his guns was in his hand, and as it came up, the look in Jesse's eyes turned from rage into pure fear. The two guards beside the door had suddenly erupted into life, raising their weapons at Gabriel as they cried shouts of concern and questioning.

“ _SIR?!_ ” They stammered at him.

Gabriel's eyes were furious and _hateful_. There's something in them that Jesse has never really seen before... Someone he's never really met before now. Sadness welled up in the cowboy's eyes as his hands rose, making himself defenseless.

“R- _Reyes??? Gabriel?... Who are you?_ ” he stammered as he stared into those unfamiliar eyes, tears forming in his own... McCree had just realized, perhaps the first person to realize, that Gabriel was _gone_. Replaced by someone else... By Moira's monster.

It wasn't until Gabriel saw the first of Jesse's tears that something stirred within him, all but commanding him to stop. And, stop he did, looking first down at Jesse, then at himself, and the guards on either side of him with their black and red pulse rifles raised, fear and concern in their eyes. Then, he saw the shaking shotgun in his hand, inches from Jesse's chest. Everything had seemed to slow to a halt, and he was reminded of how they found the gunslinger, and how he had trained him- no, more or less _raised_ him. Jesse was family to him, and had been for years. Years, until this moment.

_Look at what you've become._

 

_What am I doing?_

 

At once, he lowered the gun and staggered backwards, back and away from the assault, away from the cowboy who stared at at him incredulously. Away from that look and those tears. Jesse was forcing him to confront what had been done to him, and he could _not_ handle it. And... Reaper would not _allow_ it to happen. The moment of terror that had passes through Gabriel's eyes suddenly turned back into rage, and his hideous growl returned to his throat.

 _“Get out. All of you. Leave me_ _ **NOW**_ _._ ” His voice was not his own. In fact, it was barely human at all. At once, all three left, but Jesse chanced a look back... A look back that was brief, but telling. Gabriel was beside himself, crumbling in the wake of what he had almost done. Could stress really be causing this?

 

_Moira. Help me._

 

_Fix this._

 

~

 

Gabriel is shaken out of his meditation by this startling memory. Had he almost just killed Jesse? Was _this_ how bad it had become before the end? Was it true that he was no longer himself when the final bombs went off? Moira had made him into this creature after he had gone to her repeatedly for help. He had gone to her... After everyone he cared about had urged him not to. Why hadn't he simply trusted them? Why couldn't he have simply told Jack the truth of what was happening to him in the first place?

Frustrated, Gabriel leaves the mountaintop and retires to his room, somehow exhausted despite the relaxing nature that meditation usually offered. The visions had always been something of a fifty/fifty chance when it came to how happy or sad they'd be, but as of recently, they'd been tipping more and more towards the latter. Debating over this fact, he says nothing to anyone and stops no where on his way to his room, where he promptly collapses into the bed. He wants to close his eyes and sleep, but dwelling on what happened keeps him laying awake for a few hours more before weariness finally takes him.

 

Yet... Even here, he can't find the rest he needs.

Gabriel dreams, for the first time in a long time. For once, he dreams and it isn't merely a memory of something long past.

 

Heat stings at his skin like a thousand small needles, baking through his armor and his cloak. He stands in a desert on the edge of a cliff. Gabriel recognizes this place at once. Route 66, that place where he found Jesse. At the edge of the chasm, the broken overhead train dangles, swaying dangerously, raining ashes down over him as he glances up at the wreckage, which appears fresh, despite that he knows it happened years ago. The flames still engulf the machinery, and from within, he can hear screaming. The scent of burning flesh fills his nostrils, and yet, he's not compelled to move from where he stands, as Reaper, looking out across the chasm. Despite the screams, he sees no one, and yet, there is the consuming feeling that he is not alone. A voice calls faintly through the air, like a broken whisper that has somehow bounced its way off of the chasm walls into his ears.

“ _Stupid girl._ ”

Gleaming red eyes shoot downward into the pit, looking for the source of the familiar, accented voice. Widowmaker is floating, indeed, floating. At the bottom of the chasm he can see a river, and atop its surface, the widow reclines, floating with her featherweight upon it. Though there is no music, the femme moves like there is, dancing across the substance as she hums. Gone is the pallid grey blue hue of her skin and purple hair, replaced instead with jet black hair and pale, clear skin. She's dressed in alabaster trappings and a mask that clearly make her resemble a swan. Her eyes... Well, they're not gold now. He knows he's looking at her, or what he pictures as her, as she was when she was younger. Before she was Widowmaker. Her song is gorgeous and her voice, though it isn't perfect, carries a tune well, and yet, murmurs of tragedy. Gabriel is transfixed, and finds himself on his hands and knees as he stares down into the pit, watching her dance.

Minutes tick by, until Amelie finally looks up, eyes scanning the edge of the ravine until she finds him kneeling there. She smiles, extending a hand. Her fingers curl in a strange, come-hither motion towards him that he finds bizarrely familiar. Moira's face flashes through his mind as Amelie beckons him again, and as she does, her body begins to sink into the water. Only... It isn't water anymore. The river has begun to shift and change in hue. It glows gold at first, promising and welcoming before it begins to sour and turn amber and brown, frothing at its edges. Luring, it begins to suck the dancer in, tugging her down. The smile on her face begins to fade, and slowly, her body changes. She shifts into the form he knows her as, the same deathly skin, violet hair, glimmering gilded eyes. Her outfit changes from innocent white to sickly looking black and green, soured by the substance that drenches her, and minutes later, begins to consume her. Her hand changes from a beckoning curl into a reaching cry for help, clawing into the air up at him. Gabriel wants to jump into the pit to save her, but his muscles refuse to obey him.

“ _Gerard_...” She whispers up at him as her lips are dragged beneath the surface. Amelie, now Widowmaker, begins to drown, and as she struggles to reach the surface and to breathe, she chokes down swallow after swallow of the substance. The air escapes her lungs, and she slowly stops moving, continuing to sink until she is gone from view. As Gabriel stares on in horror, the scent drifts up and out of the chasm into his face, and he is overpowered by the stench of it...

Pungent and thick.

Alcohol.

 

Alcohol had consumed the river, and the swan herself.

 

Gabriel jolts awake from his dream, panting and drenched in a cold sweat. It takes him a moment to catch his breath and realize that everything's fine... That it was just a dream and, more importantly, he hasn't gone into another episode of PTSD and destroyed his room again. His eyes flick towards the clock through a haze of his own black cloud. Eight fourteen... He's slept all night, despite how he feels as though he just laid down. He shakes off the tenseness in his muscles and moves to the bathroom, ghosting in part on his way there as he tries to shove away the dream... Though, Moira's face still lingers in his mind. Drenching his face in a sink full of hot water, he cleans himself up and gets dressed, slinking out into the hall. He heads first for Jack's room for some kind of comfort only to then discover that Jack isn't in, and makes his way to the cafe instead, content to sit in his usual dark corner with a drink until he feels better.

 

Jaelen find him before long, sliding into the seat across from him, red hoodie up, hazel eyes bright and lips fastened into a small frown.

“That look on yer face suggests we ain't trainin' today.” She utters at him, and he groans. Her eyes roll and she sits back in her seat, bringing her drink up to her lips. “ _Oi_. What happened now? You get in a fight with the man-thing?”

“ _Man-thing?_ What? No. No.” Gabriel rebukes quietly as he finally sits forward. “Just a bad dream, that's all. Trying to shake it off. I'll be good for training in an hour.”

“An hour,” The woman repeats, sighing. “Alright. Guess I can burn an hour...” She gets up as if to leave, but then stops as she looks back down at him. “You uh... You wanna talk about it, Gabi?”

“Not particularly.” He replies, one hand reaching up to massage his eyes, expecting her to be gone by the time he opens them again.

She isn't. In fact, as she looks at him, the redhead slowly sits back down, kicks her feet up onto the third chair at their table, and crosses her arms over her chest, drink in hand. “Alright, get on with it.”

“I said _no_ , Jay.”

“I heard you. Ain't nothin' wrong with my ears, Gabi... But if it was bad enough that you gotta sit here and brood about it, I wanna hear about it.”

“ _Christ._ ” Gabriel mutters and takes another long drink of his coffee. It takes him a moment, and his sharp eyes make sure that the nearest ears are out of hearing range before he assumes telling her the story of what happened. His voice is lowered, quiet, like he doesn't want the rumor getting out that he's obsessed with Widowmaker, or something silly like that. When he was done, Jaelen exhaled a deep sort of sigh like she was letting off steam.

“That's... Uh. Heavy. You talked to Jack-O about it yet?”

“Please don't _ever_ call him that again.” Reaper rumbles, and the girl smirks.

“Did you?”

“He wasn't in this morning. I might, later. After I've had a few more... Drinks.” Things seem to slow. The idea of alcohol works itself back into his mind. The rush of the gold river with its foaming ridges. The way Amelie swallowed down so much of it before it finally destroyed her. Moira's face, the beckoning hand. His eyes widen a fractional amount as realization starts to dawn on him.

 

Alcohol.

In his room, since he left SEP.

Alcohol.

In his room, in Blackwatch.

Alcohol,

that Moira never asked him about or urged him to stop using, despite that any sane doctor would have urged him not to, particularly if they were doing tests on him, and his blood...

A drink that followed him all the way to Talon, that fueled him into an addiction, that stole away his memories and effortlessly hid the flavor of whatever had been poured into it. Alcohol, in every room at every Talon base that he'd ever been to... In every room Amelie had ever been in. Alcohol, minutes before they had let their justified concerns about Talon and its motives fade away and gave into a sudden, unexplained a lust for each other instead. _I don't know the specifics of how they administered it_ \- Edaly's words echo in Gabriel's mind. _T_ _hey delivered your food, your medicine._

His eyes widen further.

Alcohol was the answer, and it was exactly why no one at Talon was trying to _fix_ Widowmaker's habit. They wanted, even needed her to drink to get her back to where she was. And yet, it was such an easy thing to sneak into the lives of people like them. Gabriel didn't know anyone on base who didn't drink Alcohol except-

No.

No, Jesse drank Alcohol, but he had never drank _Blackwatch_ Alcohol. He had always insisted it tasted terrible, and had never given into it...

Coincidentally, he was one of the few at Blackwatch who hadn't been lured in, and Genji, at the time, a Cyborg, no one even knew if he could eat, or what he could eat- it made sense that he might not have drank it as risk of it ruining his system...

Come to think of it, Gabe couldn't remember Genji eating or drinking anything back then at all. Did he even eat or drink, now, come to think of it?

The way that Alcohol here at the new Overwatch didn't seem to satisfy him suddenly made _much_ more sense. Of course it wouldn't, because he hadn't been addicted to _that_ drink. There was something in Talon's variety that he craved, and since he was gone, the more and more the drug had worked itself out of his system, possibly causing the bizarre memories to flash back in the odd sequences that they had, a symptom of his withdrawls without him even realizing it. Widowmaker had suffered similar, while she was away in Russia with him, and yet, the moment they had drank from the same flask, that changed. She changed, and they both had. The following morning, Gabriel was nothing but a _mistake_ to her... Had she known then that something was off?

 

“ _Hello?_ Hello? Paging ghostman-” Jaelen was droning on, waving her hand in front of his face. Suddenly, he was on his feet, looking down at her.

“I have to go. I have to talk to the others- train without me, Jaelen. I'll join you later if I can.” He said, suddenly moving off, and she was on her feet, eyes wide.

“Wait, WAIT! Gabi, what happened?!” She called after him.

“I'll tell you if I'm right.” He replied, exiting the cafe at once and abruptly heading off towards Angela's office. If anyone could confirm his suspicions, she could. Could such a drug even be hidden in this way?

 

When he arrives, Angela isn't alone. She's with Sombra, who's sitting on her medical table, getting a few of her new implants inspected for any sign of complication or infection- which meant, naturally, that she had no shirt on, and she promptly screamed as soon as Reaper phased through the door.

“GABRIEL!?” Angela suddenly shouts as Sombra snags the corner of the paper cover on the table and wraps herself in it, glaring furiously at the man who has just interrupted.

While he might have laughed in any other circumstance, Reaper now stares directly at Angela.

“This is important.” He says sharply, holding his ground.

“ _Could you at least wait for me to put on a shirt, pendejo?_ ” Sombra growls aggressively as she sits there, covering her chest.

“I know what caused this.” He rebukes, ignoring the hacker.

“What do you mean?” Angela asks, stepping forward.

“I know what they're doing- I mean. The drug. The _drug_ , Angela, I know how they administered it. At least I think I do... It's in the Alcohol. The drug- whatever it is that they're using to-” Gabriel's mouth was moving a hundred miles an hour, and Angela rose a hand to stop him.

“Calm down, Gabriel. Stop. One sentence at a time, yes? What happened? What have you discovered?” As usual, her voice has a way of placating almost anyone, including Reaper himself. Sombra quietly, awkwardly turns away and scrambles for her shirt, which is thrown on with her back to the man.

As she turns back to face them, now dressed, Gabriel starts.

“I had a dream, Angela. I saw it... I saw Widow, and the alcohol. It made me think. I saw Moira's face... And I realized that during the entire time she was treating me in Blackwatch, I was also drinking. She never tried to stop me, and she never told you. Isn't it coincidental that a good portion of Blackwatch was affected, but no one in Overwatch was even minutely influenced? Moreover, Jesse, who never drank our supply? Blackwatch always had different shipments than Overwatch did. Genji wasn't even able to drink at the time. Isn't it strange how, all of the terrible things we were doing in Blackwatch, no one _said_ anything about it, outside of Jesse?” his eyes fix on Sombra, who stares with rapt attention.

“Olivia.” He says her name for the first time, trying to break through to her, and he sees her eyes widen with shock. “You said Amelie is not herself anymore. She's been drinking... A lot. I... I saw her, on one of my last missions. In her room, out of her mind, having hallucinations-”

“You didn't report seeing her...” Angela replies quietly, but is interrupted.

“Because it didn't _matter_. There was alcohol everywhere. She was non-aggressive. Talon isn't trying to stop her because they _need_ her to go back to who she was, and they're hoping that with enough of the drug, they can get her there. I need you to tell me if it's even possible- if it's even a _viable_ cause...”

Angela looks down and considers, seeming to weigh the idea in her mind before she looks up again. “Gabriel... Alcohol can do quite a good job of hiding and masking flavors... But a drug like what you're talking about would have to be so intense and so strong that even a little bit of it could be detected...”

“A _drop_ , doctor?” Sombra chimes in. “With the help of one of the world's leading geneticists on their side... It's possible that she could have helped to concentrate the chemical. If it's true that she did this to Gabe,” She's clearly been talking to Angela about Gabe's visit to Edaly. “ Then it's possible she could have helped make the drug that Talon is using to keep their people under control.”

“But you're just fine.” Angela rebukes.

“ _I_ don't trust Talon.” Sombra replies quickly. “I never drank more than a mouthful of their Alcohol before I decided I didn't like it. I never got attached to it the way everyone else seemed to... It's possible. But there is an easy way to be sure...”

“Easy?” Gabe asks, and Sombra shrugs, sliding off of the table as she looks up at him.

“You and I both know that Talon keeps that stuff in almost every room, at almost every Talon hub around the world. All we have to do is get in, snag one, and have a closer look at it. Let our scientists tell us if it's drugged or not.”

“Even if it is,” Angela starts, “We will still need a blood sample from them- from Amelie herself to prove that Talon is drugging its agents, if we even can.”

“... And if we can?” Reaper replies, following the line of thought to its natural conclusion.

Sombra smiles widely at him.

 

“If we can, Gabriel, it means that we can also possibly, eventually prove that you weren't in control of your own actions. It means that we could publicly clear your name, and you could be pardoned for what you've done. Do you know what that means, Gabe? You could go free. You could be public again... You could-”

“ _Go home._ ” Gabriel replies suddenly, his eyes wide, full of awe, and a sudden, dire need. He could see Rosa again, and his _family_. Silence stills in his throat as emotion threatens to overtake him. This was it. The key to everything. The key they needed to free him from what had happened.

 

“It wont be easy.” Sombra was saying to Winston a few hours later. An impromptu meeting had been arranged and everyone of any real relevance to the situation was there: Winston, Ana, Jack, McCree, Angela of course, Sombra, and Genji, just because he often did stealth missions like this. “I mean, getting the alcohol will be easy... But blood samples, less so. It may mean taking a captive, or trying to get someone while they're sleeping. Gabriel and I know the hubs well enough to do it ourselves, but... If we intend to ever reveal Reyes to the UN, and later, the world, we will have to find actual hard evidence that Talon tampered with him before the bombs went off. Some kind of solid documentation... And that... From my time in Talon, I searched through everything they had on file, and found nothing. If they have even _kept_ proof of it, it isn't a digital thing, which is why Reyes has been on these missions looking for evidence since. We can't clear him if we can't prove he was drugged at the time.”

“So Gabriel is going to have to remain hidden until _then?_ ” Jack asks incredulously, yet he knows they have no other choice. “That could take months... Years!”

“Do you have a better idea, amigo?” Sombra asks, and the room is quiet until finally Reaper himself speaks.

“I can wait... If that's what it takes. I think we should still try.”

“This will be risky.” Winston replies. “People could get hurt trying to do this, and if we don't find anything, it will all be for nothing.”

“All of this will be for nothing if we don't try.” Jack rebukes. “We all knew what we signed up for. We knew none of this would be easy. There isn't any part of Overwatch that isn't risky. You can't expect Gabriel to stay here and help us if we aren't willing to attempt helping him as well.”

“I agree.” Ana said at once, and Angela nodded.

“Me too. I think we should at least make an effort.”

 

A silence settles over them before Winston finally nods.

“It's decided then. I'll start setting up a mission plan for you, and we can get started.”

 

After that, everyone leaves, and Jack rests his hand on Gabe's shoulder as they stand in a hallway. The man turns to face him, and they embrace one another quietly, sharing a kiss in the privacy of the empty area.

 

~

 

Gabriel had packed his things. It's the first thing that Jack realized as he stepped into his quarters in the Switzerland base. Gabe had never kept _much_ in these quarters, but even the few things he had kept were now gone. The two hadn't even spoken to each other in three days, at least, not more than they had to as far as business went. The dark man had become more and more elusive, often leaving the room as soon as Jack arrived, or, leaving the bed as soon as Jack dared to enter it. Sex had more or less come to a stand still, and the blond couldn't remember the last time they'd done more than kiss one another very briefly in the last two months. A sigh fell out of him as he struggled with what to do. He had done as much for Gabriel as he could, at least, that he was aware of, and all any of it had done was make the man colder and more distant. Nowadays, when he did see Gabriel in passing, he was almost always in the presence of Moira, or a few of his Blackwatch _goons_. They almost never spoke to him, but the looks he had gotten from them suggested that they didn't _want_ to have anything to say to him.

Gabriel, meanwhile, was convinced that this was how it had to be. Overwatch wasn't capable nor willing to do what needed to be done in the organization, and almost everyone in Blackwatch knew it. Jack seemed to play innocent to Gabriel, but... He knew better. Moira knew better. “You can test on them.” He said to her one afternoon as they walked the halls towards the jets. “But... Nothing _too_ extensive. Nothing like...”

“I understand perfectly, Commander. You know that I can be discreet. I won't give them anything that will put them in any danger.”

“And as for your reports to Zeigler?”

“None the wiser, Commander. She doesn't have enough jurisdiction in our Watch to go testing random subjec- ah... Cadets, Sir. Still, she trusts me. I do not expect that she would do anything to interrupt our progress.”

“Good. Keep it coming, 'Deorain.” Gabriel said, smiling faintly. “Are we still good for... Later?”

“I'll have the lab ready an hour after we arrive, Commander Reyes. My best batch yet. You'll feel better than _ever_.”

“Mm,” The man smiled darkly. “Good. I'm counting on it. Meet me on the jet, I have something to tend to first.” He commanded, then turned away down a separate path, headed towards Morrison's office. He found the blond in a heap of paperwork, head bent down, pen etching over the forms. He glanced up when the door opened, spotting Gabriel at once and exhaling a sigh.

“What are you doing here, Reyes?” Jack uttered, clearly upset about the things missing from his quarters- Gabe's things- and equally stressed out from what was expected of the First Strike Commander, which he still somehow happened to be.

“I'm leaving, Jack.”

“Leaving?”

“I'm going back to the Underwing.”

“That's hours from here, Reyes. I didn't approve this mission.”

“It isn't a mission, and I didn't ask your permission. I'm leaving.” Gabe replied sharply. Jack sighed and set down his pen, finally coming to stand to face Gabriel.

“I can't allow that, Commander. I need you here. Overwatch needs-”

“Overwatch _needs_ Blackwatch if it intends to survive, and Blackwatch doesn't exist here. I'm going back to where I belong, along with many of my operatives. It should be easy enough for you to pretend we don't exist when none of us are actually here-”

“Reyes-”

“ _Morrison._ This is _not_ a request. I'm leaving, and taking what matters with me.”

That... Stung. Far more than it should have, and what was worse is that Gabriel didn't even seem to realize what he'd just said. The blond was immediately infuriated.

“I _won't_ allow it. You cannot leave.”

“I am NOT your prisoner here, Morrison.”

“No, but you _are_ under my command. I did not approve of this move. Switzerland is safer and closer to where we need to be. It's a bigger base with everything that we use.”

“It's better for you, but not for me. There are things I need that I don't have here-”

“ _If you leave, I'll lose something I need._ ” Jack snapped venomously. Gabriel's eyes were almost lifeless, unmoved by the man's words... But then he smiled.

He smiled, and laughed. Taking three steps back towards the door, Gabriel shook his head.

“You haven't needed me, Jack. You haven't needed me since the day they promoted you. You brought me along as a tool. You made me into a toy. _Your_ toy.”

“ _That isn't true and you know it!_ ” Jack shouted, slamming his hand down on the desk so hard that it made a small indentation on the edge, sure to bruise him later.

“But it _is_ true, Jack. Look around you! Look at all of this... This fucking... Shrine... It's devoted to you, isn't it? Along with everyone in it. So why don't you just admit what's what, and let me go? Let me go and do the _only_ thing I'm good at doing. Then, you won't even have to pretend you still care. You can let go of the charade you've been holding onto for years. And I? I helped you get here, didn't I?” Gabe growled, his voice growing vicious and harsh, inhuman as he spoke. “Maybe I should have just _left_ you in the subway to die. Maybe then-”

“Get out, Reyes.” Jack said suddenly, unable to take any more of the abuse. His heart is breaking, tears threatening the corner of his eyes.

Gabriel's lips formed into a dark frown, as if somehow hoping that Jack would fight harder than this to keep him here. Hoping for some kind of evidence that his suspicions were wrong... But, no. Jack was giving him up, as he half expected him to, proving his accusations correct, at least in Gabriel's eyes. He turned away and stalked out of the office, letting it shut with a slam behind him.

 

He made his way to the jets, intent to put Switzerland, and Jack Morrison, behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed this slightly more comedic chapter. Let me know what you think!  
> If you find any spelling errors, please let me know!


	37. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Gorey torture themes, might be disturbing to some.

Gabriel heaves into his toilet with the most recent memory. He doesn't even eat anymore, but that doesn't stop the way his body rejects the memory. He hates how he had become, and seeing what he had done, and what he did to Jack hurts him more than anything. Gabriel need to see him, he needs to see Jack and know that the man is better now than he was then. The damage can't be undone, he knows... It's far too late for that.

He shoves himself up and cleans himself up again, washing out his mouth and dressing properly before landing his eyes on the holo-screen. Another debrief, another mission, as promised. Winston has apparently set up something for him, and he's due to meet with the Gorilla in half an hour... But... Gabriel needs to see Jack first. Daring to be a little late, Gabe slips free of his room dressed in denim jeans and his grey hoodie, hood drawn up as he makes his way to Jack's room. For once, the Soldier is in, and Gabe, hilariously enough, finds that he's able to unlock the door himself and let himself in. He finds Jack in the bathroom, scrubbing his shaven face with a rag. Jack doesn't spot the wraith until arms are suddenly around him and he can feel Gabe's forehead press into the back of his neck from behind.

Understandably a little startled, Jack jumps at first, then relaxed.

“Hey-” The Soldier greets, a smile forming across his lips as he sets down the rag. When Gabe doesn't reply, however, Jack turns, blue eyes landing on Gabe's red-flecked, downturned stare. “Hey- hey? What's the matter, Gabe?” Jack asks, a hand slipping up to the other's goatee and tilting his chin up so that he can see his eyes.

“I saw it, Jack.”

“Saw what?”

“The... End, I guess. Part of it.”

“The explosion-?”

“No... No, before that... When I left you to go back to the Underwing- I saw... The things I said... I'm so sorry, Jack.” Gabriel's voice trembles and he looks away. He seems so guilty, so fragile, and Jack knew it wasn't something Gabe ever liked to show.

“Gabriel...” The Soldier starts, his arms sweeping low and pulling the wraith against him. “That was a long time ago. You didn't know what you were saying...”

“It doesn't matter, does it? I still said it, I still did those things. I hurt you so badly... I blamed you for _everything_... I...”

“ _Hey_.” Jack soothes, his hands warming Gabe's flesh with the hoodie between them. “It's alright... Everything's better now-”

“ _No, it isn't, Jack._ Look what's happened. Look what I've _done!_ Overwatch is gone and now Talon's a force to be reckoned with, the UN thinks I'm dead and that Reaper's a hideous Monster... Even IF we find the proof of what was done to me, there are things I've done that I will have to account for. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to pay for everything I've caused... I don't see this ending any good ways. I'm going to have to disappear...”

“ _That's_ not going to happen.” Jack insists. “We'll find a way. I didn't waste my time as Commander, Gabriel. I learned a thing or two about politics. I'm sure we can find a way to convince them. To show them the way things are now-”

“And _then_ what, Jack? Convince them that I deserve to be let off for killing hundreds- _thousands_ of people? That I _ate_ them just because? And, oh, that I _still_ have to?”

“Just... Slow down, Gabriel. I... I know it isn't going to be easy. I knew that none of this was going to be easy when I agreed to help them bring you back. I knew then that there would be a lot of hurdles to overcome, and we will. We'll overcome them together. You're forgetting that you also willingly _left_ Talon, and that you're working with us to bring them down. That's what the UN wants.”

“The UN wanted Talon down in three months, Jack. We won't have time.”

“We'll get more time. Just... Try and keep your head up, alright?” The man had so much hope, even now. It made Gabriel smile faintly. Jack leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then rested his own against it. “We'll find a way through this, Gabriel. I'm not leaving you again. Not this time.”

“...Thanks, Jack. Thanks for forgiving me... I guess I wasn't really sure anyone would. I guess, I'm not sure if I can forgive _myself_.”

“...Give it time, Gabe. We've all done things we regret. All we can do is try to make it better somehow. We'll find a way.”

For a moment the two stayed there like that, until a small alert started going off in Gabriel's pocket, a high pitched beeping that was especially annoying.

“ _Fuck_.” He uttered.

“What's that?” Jack asked.

“Winston. He wants to debrief me. I have to go.”

“I'll... Uh. I'll find you later, alright?”

“Alright...” Gabe replied, finally parting from the man and making his way off towards the meeting with Winston.

 

When he arrives, Sombra is already there with the Gorilla, going over details. Gabriel spies the location they're headed on a screen that the hacker is providing them. At the end of the table, near where Gabriel usually sits, an envelope with the full mission parameters waits for him. He idly reaches down and opens it, and begins thumbing through it as the two speak.

“You're sure she'll be here?” The Commander asks.

“Positive. Talon docks here regularly, at least they have for the last couple weeks, ever since I EMP'd the other base. They're using it as a refuge while they build another one probably. I've already been looking into as many new constructions in suspicious areas as I can but... There's a lot, and they wouldn't be there yet. The downside is that if I go in, they will be looking for me. If _he_ goes in, they won't be looking for him. He can slip in unnoticed. He would be able to get to Widowmaker before any of us, and he's more equipped to handle her than we are.”

“You're suggesting that _I_ get the blood sample from Widow?” Gabriel replies, suddenly interjecting himself as he looked up from the paperwork. He knew the location well, and indeed, he had been there many times. But, still, the idea of running into Widow again doesn't sound pleasant... Especially not when it involves sticking a needle into her.

“Who else?” Sombra asks, turning to him with a small smile. “ _Unless you feel like you're not up to it._ ”

“You don't think Genji can do this?”

“Genji's on another mission.” Winston replies. “Our time is limited, and you have the elements of both surprise and stealth. Talon doesn't know you're alive, which means they won't be looking for you. Sombra and Genji don't have that luxury.”

“Sombra can become invisible.” He rebukes.

“Oh come on, _Reaper_.” Sombra's every word drips with attitude and smart-assery. She, like Reaper himself, has no desire to go poking around the heartless seeming, vicious killer that they both had come to know relatively well. It sounds like suicide. “I can't be invisible. Not indefinitely! You know my abilities have always had time limits, and even then, I can still be detected! I'll be on the ship with you, guiding you, _cariño_.” She jeered at him with an eyeroll, making him growl slightly. “Besides, if they _have_ roped Jinx into working for them, he will be looking for me specifically, so I have to lay low, I have to be even more careful with what I'll be doing... You understand?” There was of course, the unspoken truth that, as of yet, as far as anyone could tell, Reaper couldn't be properly killed. At least, not with any methods that Talon possessed. He hated to admit it, but he really _was_ the best person for this job. Already, he was nervous.

“ _I understand,_ ” he rebuked tensely, looking back to Winston. “When are we set to leave?”

“Two days. Do whatever you can to make yourself ready.”

“My trainee- will she be coming?” Gabriel asks, referring to Jaelen as he stuffs the mission paperwork into his hoodie.

“This mission is too risky to take Carter with you. I'll be sending her on a couple missions with McCree. It's good for her to get used to working with the other operatives now and then.”

Gabriel dips his head and then turns to head out, disappearing into the labyrinth that is the Italian base before eventually finding his way to the training area where Jaelen's working on her aim. At least this time, the meeting had been short and relatively simple.

 

The days pass uneventfully and quickly, mostly with the lot keeping themselves preoccupied with training and research. Jack visited Gabriel a few times before the mission, in quiet, spending more time with him than was probably wise... But then, if either of them cared about what was wise, they wouldn't be seeing each other in the first place... If either of them had _ever_ cared about what was wise, they'd have never become lovers _period._ McCree made sure to let Gabriel know he knew about it _every_ chance he got, usually with a grin and some kind of playful tease. It wasn't long before Sombra was doing similar.

This morning, she'd stopped only because the mission was on the way. The ship ride was quiet and still as usual, but someone had taken it upon themselves to decorate the interior of the ship with bright holiday lights and holographic snowflakes. Sombra, apparently, had decided it was too droll to ride in without such things, and she insisted that by the time they returned to the mountain, there would a sheet of white snow all over everything. Talon had never really had time for holidays, but it was becoming clear to Gabriel now that the hacker was enamored with them. How had she managed to hide it so well for so long, he wondered absently as he reclined along one side of the ship, eyes staring up into the small, snow-flake speckled cabin ceiling she had provided them.

After an hour, she arrived from somewhere up front, apparently exhausted with talking to the pilot, and nudged Gabriel with an elbow, lazily pushing some kind of hot drink into his hands. Hot chocolate, he discovered.

“How did you hide this for so long, Sombra?” He asked finally.

“Hide what?”

“All of this... This _festivity_.” He mused. “How did you keep it from Talon?”

“I kept a _lot_ from Talon, Gabe. No one there knew how I really was. I wasn't around any of you long enough for it to show I guess.”

“And before that?”

“Before Talon? Before Overwatch?” The hacker looked across the cabin with a sigh. “I had no reason to be festive. No reason to celebrate, and no one to celebrate with. No one I trusted. No one I could call family. I made my own way. Guess you could say I'm compensating now.”

“Yeah.” Gabe replied, looking down into his drink. “Well, thanks. It's nice.”

“And what about you, Reaper?” She asked abruptly, looking his way.

“You've seen the videos. You know what happened to me.” Gabriel rebukes somewhat shortly.

“I only saw what happened during Overwatch. Before that, you were in SEP, and before that, the military. But... Before that?”

Thinking about his old laugh made Gabriel sigh somewhat. It all seemed so long ago.

“I wanted to be a cop, once. I guess I saw a lot of injustice in my area and I wanted to do something about it. If not enforcement, then maybe law.”

“What like, a lawyer?”

“Yeah... I imagine I could have done it, if I applied myself. If I hadn't gotten distracted.”

Sombra smirked, then clinked her drink against his faintly, the sound of the ceramic mugs loud in the otherwise quiet cabin. “But what fun would that have been? Getting distracted is all we have.” She mused gently. “And your... Tradition... Do you think you'll go?”

“... You're talking about the family. My family.” Gabe said quietly, and she tipped her head gently in affirmation. “I don't know.” he replied. “That's so far away from the base, and in Talon, I had more freedom than I have in Overwatch. People depend on me here. Stakes are higher now. I can't afford to get caught.”

“You didn't get caught as Reaper, did you?” She asked, and he suddenly chuckled.

“Evidently, I did, didn't I?” He looks directly down at her. She knew about it, and because she did, all of Overwatch knew about it. She realized his point and looked down and away, sad for some a little bit. It would be so easy for her to find out who they were to him... But things were safer this way, weren't they? She changes topic, rather than dwelling on it.

“Anyway. You might want to drink that, I'm told we'll be arriving soon. Might want to put your mask on, too.”

“Eager to hide away this face?” He teases, and she chuckles at him.

“I wouldn't say charm is your best feature, Reyes. Besides, Jack might get jealous.” She mused, moving away. He smiled after her, and sipped away at the drink until it was gone.

 

As she'd said, they arrived minutes later, and by the time the cargo hatch opened, he had covered his face with that familiar mask and slipped out into the open as a ghost. It was sunset, and the star cast it's orange glow in a thin line across the horizon, outlining the small city they were on the edge of. Gabriel had been here many times, and might have guessed that this is where they would retreat after Sombra effectively decimated one of the other major hubs. For the moment, he didn't need Sombra's input. He knew exactly where it was he needed to go, and how best to get there without being seen. Like a demon, he slipped from shadow to shadow, effortlessly working his way along the bases of buildings and weaving his way through the alleys as an inconspicuous darkness. Filtering in through an air vent, the man spiraled downwards through the workings and navigated the cramped pipes until he reached something akin to the destination he needed.

He couldn't be completely certain where Widowmaker would be, but he could guess that she'd be in one of two places: in her room, or in the interrogation... And if she was interrogating, it was probable that Akande was with her, or at least observing, the way that she had once watched Reaper himself _work_. For a moment, he almost longed it. He almost _missed_ the closeness and the power they had shared under such circumstances. But, that was the flaw of greed, he thought, always convincing people with a cloying need of things that were self-destructive and detrimental.

He had put all of that behind him, and that was where it needed to stay. Forgotten, with this hideous, lonely place. Things were better now, and he was _happier_ now. Safer now, and finally, himself.

Amélie looked more herself than she had in a while, as he found her at the latter of the two places he suspected. The interrogation room was pitch black all except for a single yellow light overhead, and Gabriel might not have seen her there at all on the far wall of the room if it hadn't been for her gleaming yellow irises that gave her away.

She was humming a song.

 _That song._ His song.

Her fingers worked effortlessly over the machinery of her sniper rifle. In front of her, across the room, sitting in a chair and bound to it with chains and cuffs, a middle-aged woman that looked as though she could have been someone's soccer mom. Short, bobbed hair, eyes with running mascara from tears already shed. Her shoes were gone, and she wore only a loose, ripped white button- up shirt and a pair of grey denim jeans that were already smeared with dried blood, probably from whatever struggle she gave them during her capture. Gabriel didn't know who she was or what significance she posed to Talon, but he could guess that she was someone of some relation to a corporate business- someone that Talon was trying to haggle for lower prices, or perhaps funding.

“You can't do this!” She shouted defiantly towards Widowmaker, who finally emerged from the shadows. She wasn't dressed in her tactical gear, but casual clothing with a familiar hoodie he had seen time and time before. There was the top end of a flask sticking out of one of the pockets. Widow's make-up was darker than usual, painted on like she had turned herself into the black swan of Gabriel's nightmare.

“ _Mon Cherie, do not make the mistake of telling me what I can't do._ ” she purred, finishing loading a shot.

“You _fools_ , I saw the way in! I know where we are!”

“ _Of course you did, and you do._ That should terrify you. Do you know why?”

“W-What? No!” The woman stammered, suddenly not sure of herself... But Gabriel knew the answer without Widow having to say it. The only time Talon allowed a captive to see them, or the ship, let alone the facility where they were being held, is if they wholly, entirely intended to kill them after the interrogation.

_“Because it is irrelevant, my dear. You do not matter, because you are not leaving this room breathing.”_

This of course terrified the woman, whose eyes suddenly went wide, and her hands clasped at the armrests of her seat in a futile effort to escape. “You can't! You _wouldn't!_ You'll NEVER get what you want if you do this- my husband-”

“ _Your husband is already in three separate pieces. Shall I bring you his head so that you can bid him adeu? Perhaps his heart, that once beat for you?_ ” Widowmaker taunted poetically, circling the woman like a shark.

Tears now began to flow anew from the woman, her hands tightening on the rests. “N-No... No. You're lying. No- his company-”

“ _His company_ made the mistake of calling our bluff, _Cherie._ They, like you, underestimated Talon... I hate to say it, but you're both just setting an example for the rest of them.” She laughed then, a dark, wicked sound as she paced back towards her place across the room, reaching into the darkness, her finger fumbling over a hidden device, the tripod of which Gabriel could now see. A small red light blinked on as the camera powered on. The Widow's humming resumed, making Gabriel feel almost sick to his stomach. He watched then as Widowmaker took aim, her body a powerful line in the darkness from where he watched, and the woman begged for her life. A wickedly loud bang ricocheted through the air and off the walls, followed by a horrid shriek of pain, followed by a sudden flash of blood as one of the woman's kneecaps fractured into a hundred different pieces like the shattered pieces of a broken mirror. Inside, Gabriel wanted to gag. Reeling away from it from his place above in the vents, he caught the whisper of a laugh, and followed it to its source. Finally. He found him. Akande was lounging on a rather oversize black divan with a front row-seat to the display room, a full-wall mirror so that he could see everything that was going on. He was eating something- some kind of dried meat, honeyed, undoubtedly expensive... And with it... Alcohol that was _not_ of Talon's brand, he was sure. The familiar, high-shelf label gave it away.

Another shot, and another scream, and the woman's foot dangled at a very _wrong_ angle.

With two more shots, it was severed entirely, the echo of the shots fading beneath the hideous scream of pain and anguish howling out of the restrained woman.

 _I need to do something_ , Gabriel's thoughts screamed to him. _I need to stop this_. _This can't go on._

Another shot, and this time, the woman's scream was short lived and shrill- Widowmaker had obviously severed some kind of artery, and it now painted the floor of the cell directly in front of the woman. Pain had put the woman under, and after a few seconds, the flow stopped entirely. Widow stalked away from the camera and into the frame, her rifle slid into the sling over her back. A free hand slipped down to her belt and removed a tool from it's clasp. A long switchblade, apparently. Gabriel could not watch, but could overhear the sawing motion, the cut and the gurgle of escaping air, and finally, the scrape of metal on bone, through cartilage as Widowmaker removed the woman's head.

He knew he couldn't stay wraithed like this for too much longer- he was already struggling to keep himself apart, and it felt something like suffocating... But at the same time, if he left, he might lose them.

Widowmaker left the room then, sauntering casually into the room where Akande lounged. In her hand, still dripping, the head swung from the hair, which she gripped. “It's done. Now what?”

“Now?” Akande laughed. “Now we ship it to Lumerico in a box, along with the other one. That should get their attention.”

“And the video?”

“I'll have Jinx broadcast it to all their private channels.”

“And if it doesn't work? If they don't comply?”

“I'm counting on it, Amélie. We want _chaos_. Imagine what every Lumerico worker is going to do when they realize that, because their company refuses to offer us the funding and support we demand, that they, and their loved ones, can suffer the same fate as this? If they _see it_ , they will panic... We win, regardless what Lumerico chooses to do.” Akande smirked, then put back a bit more alcohol.

“And if _Jinx_ doesn't cooperate?” Widow asked.

“He will. He still thinks we're holding her here. He's as much a prisoner as she would be- if we had her.”

“And if he finds out that we don't?”

“We'll have to make a new plan for that, won't we?” Doomfist was surprisingly suave. He seemed especially pleased with himself, and Gabriel could see why. They had taken their own failure and turned it to their favor, using it to their advantage to force Jinx's hand. Additionally, they were causing chaos in all of the best, and worst ways possible. That was how Akande intended to start the war.

“You can't plan for _everything_ , _Mon Cher._ ” Amélie mused at him, dropping the head and walking slowly towards the edge of the divan, one of her knees coming up onto the edge of it where he was. He smirked faintly up at her, setting down his drink.

Gabriel wanted to gag. He could already see where it was going with these two before it got there. He needed to reform, and watching a very brainwashed Amélie go for a villainous psychopath wasn't exactly high on his list of things to do. Wheeling away, he decided to make a report, somewhere out of earshot.

 _Of course he would poison her to do this,_ Gabriel thinks furiously, not that he had any romantic ties to Amélie, but the alcohol had been used this way before- as an attempt to find out what was going on in Reaper's head- so of course Akande would use it to give himself the one thing he didn't yet have- the affection of an attractive, deadly woman. It was _beyond disgusting_. Once again, Talon had turned Amélie into a tool they could use.

Gasping as he finally reformed, the wraith glanced down at himself, already paler than before, already hungry, and his eyes gave themselves away in the darkness of the empty room he had escaped to.

“ _Sombra_.” He whispered into his comm device. “Talon is using hostages as examples to try and insight chaos and cooperation with Lumerico. I have just witnessed an execution. They have a recording they intend to release to their entire employee-base. They're going to ship _heads_ to the company... Headquarters, I'd guess. I don't know whose they were-”

“ _Slow down, Amigo! Did you say -heads-?!_ ”

“Heads.” Gabriel panted back. “Heads, recordings... Lumerico. You need to warn them. Someone will have to protect them-”

“ _On it. I'll put out a warning. Anything else? Do you have the blood? The alcohol?_ ”

“Not yet. Widowmaker is... With Akande.”

“ _With him? The hell you mean- with?_ ”

“She's... _With_... Him.” Gabe utters disgustedly.

“ _UH. Oh. Okay. Uh. Alright. Uhm. Wait 'til they're done, I guess?_ ”

“ _You expect me to wait here while they fu-_ ” Reaper suddenly fumes.

“ _Stop complaining, Pendejo! Go and get the alcohol or something!_ ” Sombra barks quickly. “ _They'll be distracted for a few minutes at least... Go!_ ”

Without another word, Gabriel sighs and refocuses himself. It takes a few more minutes before he allows himself to evaporate again, this time ghosting along through the air conditioning towards where he remembered Widowmaker's room being. When he arrives, it's just the same as it used to be... Neat and clean. It would seem like the overuse of the Alcohol had had the desired affect. Widowmaker has been restored to her former, emotionless, _useful self_ , he thinks as he looks among the things. But there is alcohol here, and lots of it- most of it in various stages of consumption.

He worked quickly and quietly, filling up a few vials he had brought with him of various types of the alcohols there at her bar, small enough amounts that no one would ever notice any was missing, but more than enough for Angela and the other scientists to do their tests on.

It was only a minute or so after that that he hears the tell-tale click of heels down the hallway and he knows he has to move, and move he does- barely having enough time to escape into the overhead vents without being seen. And now she seems healed... Healed enough that he's not likely going to get by as little more than a hallucination should she spot him. She'd know who he was, and so quickly, she'd be able to make the connections he didn't want her to make. The Widow entered the room without a second thought, quiet and purposeful, stalking towards the bathroom where she promptly cleaned herself up, giving away that she was at least slightly put off by whatever transpired in the other room, or at least, self conscious enough to clean herself off. She then retreats to the bed, and Gabriel feels like his lungs are burning, his body aching the longer he keeps it apart, drawing on whatever strength he has to keep himself quiet and still. Does he even have enough time to get the blood now?

 _Feed_.

A voice whispers into the back of his mind. Reaper rears his head. _Feed. Feed._

It repeats like a demand, and the longer he waits, the harder it is for Gabriel to deny the call. If he doesn't feed, he won't complete the mission. Moreover, he'll give himself away, and in all probability, he'll die. _Feed_. No matter where he goes to do it, the body will be left as they always are.. Husks. A husk was not the kind of evidence he could afford to leave. But there was another option, wasn't there? Something he didn't care to think about, and it was because of that that he had never tried... Who said it had to be a _dead_ person who would feed him?

He was out of time and out of options. Gabriel ghosted away, frantically searching... Hunting. Finally, he found someone... Multiple someones, in fact. He had made his way into the Talon equivalent of grunt barracks. They weren't as military as one might expect of like, a traditional army, but it was more or less a slightly less high quality hallway of rooms, four men to a room with bunk beds in each. These rooms weren't stocked with drinks or any of the good amenities, but they had shared bathrooms and little else. Gabriel knew what he had to do, but he had never done it on a living person before. It wouldn't be easy, and there was a possibility that they, or any one of them could wake up. The room was pitch black, and everyone was asleep by now, despite that the sun had only gone down an hour or so prior. They probably had to be up early, he reasoned. That meant that he had no time to waste. Gabriel reformed finally in one of the corners of the room, sucking in a deep breath as soon as he was allowed. By now, he could see the own gleaming of his red eyes and knew they would give him away if anyone dared to crack an eye for a second.

Stealth was paramount here. It had to be. Gabriel drew himself up to the edge of the closest bed, eyes gleaming down over the sleeping soldier hungrily. His lower half slowly ghosted, and slowly his claws pulled him forward, looming silently over the other, eyes retaining their burning red stare as he opened his maw, hideous and wide as it was. At first, nothing happened, and he began to fear that it wasn't going to work. The longer he tried, the more Reaper began to take over. The shadows grew more aggressive and more erratic, curling towards the sleeping man daringly, but each time, Gabriel stopped them, knowing he would wake if he dared to touch him. Again, Gabriel tried to feed, but the body was hesitant to give up anything, especially while it was still breathing. Reaper had had enough, and Gabriel's frustration caved as his starvation reached a new level. Too much wraithing and too much waiting had put him on his last reserves.

He was out of options.

One hand suddenly reached down, latching around the other's throat, waking him at once, but his grip was so tight that no sound escaped him. Legs began to kick, creaking the bed, forcing Gabriel to put his full weight on the man, whose eyes suddenly widened as they landed on him. There was recognition in those eyes, and so much confusion. His shadows lurched forward and into the man, digging into him and through him, and a pained scream tried to make it past his lips, but failed. Finally, Gabriel found purchase, and the skin began to peel and tighten across the man's frame. A familiar rush of enjoyment flooded Reaper's system, swarming over him and through him as he inhaled and stole from the man. The creaking of the bed had begun to rouse the others, which convinced Gabriel to feed faster. How was he going to clean this up? Gabriel's words echoed in his head. Reasoning in the background as it had been for so long, went unnoticed. Reaper craved this. There was a solution to all these little problems- a solution that Gabriel wouldn't like, but it was an option none the less. None of these men mattered. They would all die sooner or later, anyway... Tonight, tomorrow, in a battle a month from now, or when Overwatch destroyed them all for their part in this little war they were already in.

Gabriel fed until the man did not move... Did not breathe, and when he finally looked up from his meal, he needed only glance across the room to the other bunk when he learned what must be done.

Because there, staring back at him, a soldier sat upright in his bunk, eyes wide, horrified.

“ _It's you... You're... You're alive-_ ”

Gabriel moved off of the now-husk on the bed behind him, stretching up to his full height. Understandably, the man, despite being generically terrified of him, did not seem alarmed. After all, Reaper was on his side, wasn't he? Hadn't he always been?

“ _And I was really hoping not to wake you._ ” Reaper replies, his trembling voice enough to wake the other two in the room, who startle and jolt upright. The second they do, he's in motion. His body exploded into blackness, swarming them, choking them all out at once with the thickness of his darkness, and in doing so, feeding from them all at once. Before one of them could reach the door, his hands, all four of them, closed around his mouth and neck, then twisted with a hideous crack. The man fell lifelessly, and shortly there after, so did the other two, to similar injuries. And Reaper fed, and fed, and continued to feed until there was _nothing_ left of them. He took from them greedily, erasing as much evidence as possible, and though he did not need it he took every scrap of them with him, into him.

All that remained behind were complete, if broken skeletons. Gabriel had never done this... Even Reaper, as he had been before, had never used his power to such an eviscerating extent before. He had always only fed until he was satiated...

But now?

Now, Reaper was more powerful than he could have ever imagined. The tech built into his coat was now nowhere near strong enough to control all of his shadows the way he needed them controlled. They plumed off of him, and his eyes burned. Strength rolled through him in waves, and for a moment, Gabriel feared that he was going to lose himself to the monster again. _The evidence,_ Gabriel warned, and the wraith looked at what he had done, taken aback by his own strength, his own ability. This was not what he had intended... It wasn't what either of them had expected. Feeding from living beings? Easy? Hardly...

“ _Sombra_.” Reaper called into his comm device. She seemed able to tell that something was wrong at once... His voice was _off_. Too familiar to her to miss.

“ _What's happened?_ ” She asked in as calm a voice as she could manage. Gabriel managed to speak to her as quietly as he was able, but Reaper's timbre remained, menacing and cold. “ _I fed. It was a necessary sacrifice..._ ”

“ _WHAT? Gabriel! The bodies! What about-_ ”

“ _I'm working on it._ ” He replied.

The bottom line was that Gabriel had no idea how to dispose of them, and if these men were meant to be somewhere in the early morning, it meant that he didn't exactly have extra time to make a foolproof plan. He still had to get Widowmaker's blood, and-

Then, something occurred to him.

What if these men were drugged as some of Talon's operatives were? Would he be affected by the same poison? He saw no signs of alcohol here, however, and they didn't seem to _act_ drugged... So he would hope that perhaps he had escaped any repercussions of his rash decision to feed. But if he left the bones here, someone would find them. Genji and Sombra could not do this- there was no one in the world that any of them knew of who could _do_ this, except...

Then, Gabriel got an idea... An idea that made him smirk faintly beneath his mask.

Moira.

Moira had a lab here at this base.

If chaos was what they were after... Chaos was what they would get.

 

Moira had done this to him, and while she might not recognize it at first, this was her handiwork. Four skeletons showing up in her lab unannounced, and matching descriptions of missing Talon operatives would _certainly_ draw suspicion from Talon's Council. She wasn't permitted to test on just anyone, and she _wasn't_ trustworthy. That was why they sometimes let her go back to her home in Oasis. That was why she retained a title there... Akande would absolutely be leery of letting her back into their line of work if he thought that she was putting his own men at risk, and performing experiments without telling him, or anyone.

_It was almost too easy, playing their game against them._

Gabriel collected the men in their respective bed sheets, complete with their tags intact, and turned into a shade, carrying them away until he found her laboratory. He laid them out on her tables, even went so far as to hook some of them up to machines, effortlessly making it look like this was her work. There were no cameras here, he knew from experience that Moira never liked anyone else eavesdropping on her work... So when it came time for her to answer for this, it would be nothing but _her word_ defending herself.

And if she tried to say she didn't do it, who else in the world had the ability to do anything like this? No one but Reaper, and even that was a stretch because he had never done it before, and, besides, _he was dead._ But everyone had heard and seen how Moira had gotten thrown out of the Scientific community years and years ago. It was easy to believe that she could be behind some kind of catastrophe like this. And for Gabriel... This was the sweetest form of revenge he could think of. At least, so far.

He struggled not to laugh beneath his hood as he made his way out and up into the vents again, navigating back towards Widowmaker's room to finish the mission. As he went, he advised Sombra on what he had done.

“ _When the morning comes, they will think that Moira has destroyed four of their soldiers. Experimented on them without certification... And cost them their lives, no less. And if she was doing it to them, she's certainly done it to others. Akande won't trust her. She may even be thrown out of the Council. His number of allies will thin by one, and that's one more geneticist he won't have helping him. One more healer lost. If we can disrupt their leadership..._ ”

“ _We can't just..._ ”

“ _Enough. We'll talk about it on the ship. I have work to do._ ”

“ _Dios mio._ ” Sombra growls into her comm before clicking off.

 

Gabriel arrived once more at Widow's quarters, quiet and freshly fed- overwhelmed in fact- with the rush of his feeding that pulsed through him. His shadows threatened to sweep down into the room without him, and it was difficult to keep them from doing so. To his luck, Amélie was already asleep, her body slightly curled up beneath the covers, eyes closed and breathing even. Slowly, Gabriel let himself sink into the room, dropping behind the bed, away from the way she was facing, his movements soundless and still, shifting the air only minutely around him. His shadows were so thick now that even if the lights hadn't been out, it might have been hard just to make out the exact contours of his frame. The woman did not stir in the slightest, and it was safe to assume that she was out. Getting blood was going to be a hell of a lot harder than getting alcohol. After all, she might feel it, right? Angela had assured him before he went that these needles were smaller than average, and almost always coated with a thin chemical that was meant to numb on contact- similar to the way some insects worked- but... Gabriel had never used one, and his paranoia was to be expected.

One of her arms and shoulder was exposed, so that's where he'd have to get it from. But, arms were easy to move, and he didn't want to risk her shifting and possibly feeling or breaking the needle, then, attacking him there after, so, he found an exposed place near her shoulder. His legs ghosted, along with most of his torso, leaving only his arms, one of which now held the syringe, open and exposed. Leaning over the side of the bed, his shadows held him aloft without putting any pressure on the bed, nothing that might alert the Widow.

Any second now, she could wake, and everything would be all over.

All he had to do was breathe wrong, or make a sound, and she would know he was there.

Every nerve stood on end, and each breath she took _scared_ Gabriel more than he cared to admit.

Then, the needle found its mark up against her skin, and he felt his heart still in his chest. He swore he could hear it, and that it was so loud, she must be able to hear it too. But, the sniper didn't move. Excruciating stealth, he thought to himself, that he was never meant to be _this_ precise. He drew back on the plunger on the needle, allowing it to finally take the sample it needed. Widow's blood was understandably darker and slightly more blue, a detail he'd notice only barely in the dim light enhanced by the redness of his eyes, making it look more purple. Before he knew it, the syringe was full, and he drew back. The woman seemed to exhale a small sigh, and her body shifted. Gabriel, understandably worried that he'd worried her, promptly secured the syringe sample into its own vial, then ghosted back into the vents above, waiting until he was far out of earshot before telling Sombra he had gotten out. Back on the ship, things were not so quiet as they flew home.

 

“Christ, Gabe... You're going to do to them what they did to you? To Overwatch?” Sombra shortly after he'd told her what had happened with himself, the feeding... And the bizarreness of how it had happened. He'd had to, because when he walked aboard the ship, he hardly looked himself. His shadows were thicker now than they had ever been, and his eyes did not stop glowing, and his skin... His skin was almost black. It was as though he had gone beyond simply recovering himself, and had instead entered some kind of overfed state, complete with claws and fangs.

“No one ever said justice was pretty. They deserve what's coming for them. I will not stop until they are all... Gone. Tell me it's a bad idea, hm?”

“You know Jack and Winston won't approve of this.”

“I didn't ask for their approval, just like I didn't ask for it when I saved you, remember, _Olivia_?” His use of her name shocked the hacker into silence and she glared at him for a long moment before she snapped towards him. Inwardly, he wondered how long using her name would have that effect on her. Would it eventually fade, or would they be forced to stop calling her that?

“Didn't exactly expect you to hold it over my head-”

“I'm not trying to!” Gabriel growls back, “Jack promoted me once because of this. Because this was what I was for. Because we needed it. Someone needs to be able to play the game by their rules, and I can. Because _someone_ needs to get their hands dirty now and then. I needed to feed, anyway-”

“ _Did_ you, though? You know that's what they're going to ask. How do they know you're not just killing people just to kill people, Reaper?”

“I'm not that _thing_ anymore. If I had stayed as I was, my wraith would have failed, and I'd have given myself away. I'd have been caught, then captured and tortured, or simply died. Or worse, gone back to _actually_ being Reaper. Is that something any of us would have wanted? Is that a risk we could have afforded? No. Four lives is a small price to pay for-”

“Four _lives_ , Gabriel. They were still men. They could have still been-”

“What- Saved? Tell me, what happens when they get into another fight with Overwatch, or even just another organization? Another government? They die, Sombra. That's where this all leads. They would have died _regardless_. I had to make a call, me, or them, and I chose me. You can complain about the semantics later, but it's done now. The frame is laid for Moira all the same, and Overwatch will be better off for it. Talon will struggle because of it. It's worth the cost.

As much as Sombra wanted to argue in favor of not killing people... He was right. If it was true that the mission would have failed if he hadn't done that, then it was a cost worth taking. But who could say whether that was true or not? Gabriel had _always_ been motivated by revenge, even before the crisis, even before SEP... Gabriel _himself_ had always wanted revenge for one slight or another... And why would any of them expect him to have changed now? They couldn't. Was it fair for him to get revenge on men who had nothing to do with turning him into Reaper? Somehow, she thought not... But, there was little she could argue against doing what he had done.

“Besides, I have been starving more than that, and consumed far more people.” He adds as an afterthought, moving away and setting down his mask, dropping his hood.

“Not like _that._ You never actually _consume all of them_. You said you left nothing but bones behind! When was the last time _that_ ever happened. Besides, look at you! You want to tell me this is normal? This is anything BUT normal. What are we suppose to tell them happened to you? Do you even know if this is going to fade? How do you even feel?”

“I _tried_ something. I was trying to feed from someone who wasn't... Dead. I was trying to make it so that I didn't leave any evidence. With luck, I'd have just drained a couple of them, then finished the job. But it was difficult- I finally got it to start working, but one of them woke up and saw me. I had to act quickly... I reacted out of instinct-”

“ _Instinct_ for you is _Reaper_.” Sombra pointed out. “Not exactly a _safe_ option.”

“Got me out alive, didn't it?”

“Yes, but now you look like a freaking Sith Lord, Reyes. You're going to scare half the base by the time we arrive!” _She knew that reference?_ Gabriel was silently impressed with her, though he wouldn't dare say so out loud. “You should... Uh... Maybe just chill out in your room, alright? Maybe it'll go away, or I can send Angela... I'll give them the debrief... You _do_ still have the samples, don't you?” She asked sharply, and he reached beneath his coat, producing them and handing them over, including one obviously full of Widow's blood.

“Don't lose them. They weren't easy to get.” Gabriel utters, turning away from Sombra, who in his eyes, appears ungrateful, or perhaps insensitive. She simply didn't understand the hunger. No one did, and likely, no one would. Someone would recognize his efforts sooner or later, he thought.

As for this Overfed state somehow he seriously doubted it was going to go over well with anyone, though he supposed it had worked out at the time, it could be a huge disadvantage in many other situations. Especially since, with him being as fed as he was right now, the arms were impossible to hide, and smoke drifted off of almost every inch of him, clouding the area around him and giving off an odor similar to gunpowder and charcoal. Moreover, as Sombra had pointed out, he was wicked to look at, a detail he noted in the reflection of the metal siding inside the ship's cabin. Black skin, claws, four arms, red rings around his pupils brighter than ever.

He remembers the one time his arms formed wings once, and how terrifying that had been... No, he decides, this should probably not be a repeat event.

“There's something else.” He remembers suddenly as he looks her way. “We rescued Mrs. Singh, but Talon has deceived Jinx into thinking that they have her. They mean to force him to cooperate by threatening her... We need to make sure she stays safe, and find a way to get Jinx out.”

“I'll make a note of it,” Sombra replies, going back to the holo-screen projected by her hand.

 

Gabriel looks back into his reflection.

_What was Jack going to think?_

 

In her room, the Widowmaker stirs. A minuscule itch tingles at the back of her shoulder and she reaches back to touch it. The room is colder now than when she crawled into bed, and the scent... Oddly familiar. For a long moment, she can't shake the feeling that she wasn't alone. A cursory glance around the room renders no evidence, no trace of any visitor. Goosebumps crawl up and over her skin, an strange sensation all by itself. Widowmaker didn't really get cold, at least not in the traditional sense. It never caused her any real discomfort... And yet, she _was_ discomforted. Why?

 

In the silence of the room, a song comes back to her mind, and her lips hum the words as they filter through her thoughts.

 

_Trust me, and take my hand._

_When the lights go out, you'll understand._

 

It reminds her of something. _Someone_. Reaper.

The man... The _mistake_.

 

_Where did you go?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope you are having a good season. I will try to put out the next chapter on time, or maybe a litrle early as my gift to you for the holiday, but I will be very busy this week! 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think of the story!
> 
> And, if you feel so inclined, come join my server and chat with other Haunted Readers, Overwatch Players, R76 Shippers and more at https://discord.gg/uetujrT. The server is public, but please be Mature enough to be considered adult, and respectful towards others on the channel! The channel receives *immediate* notifications when the newest Chapter of Haunted (and other Alerts, such as my commission sales or openings, etc) go live! We love talking about lore things and possible what ifs, sharing memes and joking around ^^.


	38. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Heavy Smut =]
> 
> OH, before I forget! I opened a Ko-fi, guys! If you like this story, please, PLEASE consider donating to me to help keep it possible for me to keep releasing chapters. I made a full journal on this on my tumblr, here: http://trishields.tumblr.com/post/168802659362/trishields-so-guys-i-did-something-i-did
> 
> Donate here: https://ko-fi.com/trishields

Gabriel was nervous. It had been a few hours since they landed, and even now, the dark color of his skin hadn't faded. Sombra was debriefing the rest of the team as she had promised she would, and he, meanwhile, lounged in his tub, soaking in the heat as the chill of the mountain threatened to soak into their bones. Just as the hacker had said, snow had arrived, and the Christmas holiday was only days away. Steam rose up and around him, bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin as he sunk a little deeper. The room itself was relatively dark, the lights intentionally dimmed to suit him. He let his thoughts distract him as he daydreamed.

It was only a few minutes after that he heard the doors of his quarters open and close without any kind of warning. Jack was here. Here to rage, and to lecture him for killing four people. He was the only one of the crew who was brazen enough to simply walk in to Reaper's room without some kind of knock or forewarning. Gabriel sucked in a deep breath, wanting to sink into the tub and disappear. Seconds later, Jack's shadow fell over him, silhouetted in the dim yellow light of the bathroom. Gabriel looked up with his black and red eyes, slicked hair, four arms, pitch black skin. Quiet for the moment, expecting the torrent of rage that was sure to pour itself out of the Soldier...

But... It didn't come. In fact, Jack's face didn't even look angry. He looked _concerned._

Gabriel finally broke the silence between them, and when he spoke, his fangs revealed themselves in the light.

“Figured you'd find me sooner or later.”

Jack struggled to reply at first, his eyes roaming over what had become of the shade.

“Sombra said you were... Changed. You alright? I don't see any injuries.” Jack said, still staring over Gabriel, who was starting to feel mildly insecure under his stare... At least until he noticed the _way_ Jack was staring.

“That's sort of the point of feeding, isn't it? Besides, you don't look like you're looking for injuries,” he smirked, raising a brow at Jack, who suddenly turned away, trying to hide his flush. He ended up sitting on the closed toilet, elbows on his knees as he looked at Gabriel. “I thought you'd be mad, Jack.” He confesses.

“I wanted to be.” Jack admits. “But... This isn't like before, is it? You're not the same. She said you _had_ to... I'm not here to judge you or lecture you, Gabe. I don't think you did it because you wanted to. Did you?”

“Of course not.” Reaper responds quietly. He hadn't enjoyed killing for quite some time now.

“So what is this then? Did it happen before? Will it go away?” The soldier sounded eager and concerned, worried that the caramel beefcake he had fallen for was gone.

“It's never happened before, no... But then I haven't attempted that before. Trying to feed from someone still alive. I don't know if it'll fade. I don't know why it wouldn't.”

“What does it feel like?”

“ _What?_ ”

“... Gabe, if you could see yourself.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“I... Ah...”

“Jack... It's fine. I see the look in your eyes. You can't stop staring. You _obviously_ want some,” Gabriel mused, chuckling up at the soldier.

“You're not in any pain?” Jack asked, eyes sweeping down over the man's body again. He couldn't stop staring.

“No. I'm cold, though. Maybe you can do something about that...” The wraith flirted- and lied. The water was warming him sufficiently, which is why he did it, but... The idea of being warmed by Jack instead was far better. Jack nervously wet his lips with his tongue. The tub was certainly big enough- after all, having men like Reinhardt and Winston- and now, apparently the very large Russian woman Zarya on base, was certainly motivation enough for the architects of this maze to make every room accommodating to any who might need them. Jack made up his mind with a smile and straightened up, stepping out of his shoes and socks. His shirt came away shortly after that, and then everything over his lower half. Seconds later, he sunk into the tub with Gabe, eagerly locking lips with him as their skin touched. The water, it turned out, was still almost _too_ hot- apparently Gabriel couldn't feel it entirely, or perhaps he had done it so often that it no longer fazed him, but he could certainly feel Jack's torso as it slid up over him when their lips met. All four arms came up around him, each one solid and firm, claws plucking against his skin.

“I was worried about you.” Jack finally confesses as he adjusts to the heat of the water. “She said something had happened with you on the mission and that you were different... And that was why you didn't come to the debrief. What happened?”

“I was...” Gabriel makes a small motion with his hand. “ _Ghosting_ too much, I guess. For too long. Did a lot of spying. I started starving. I had to do something. Had to make a choice. I didn't want...” Gabriel pauses. This is harder to say than he expected it to be. He draws water up onto Jack's spine with his claws. “I didn't _want_ to kill anyone. I was out of options. I thought maybe if I tried... If I tried to feed the way I normally do with fresh bodies, maybe somehow it would give me enough to get me through the mission. But... One of them woke up. If I fired, it would have woken up the whole corridor. I had to choose. But... The feeding- I mean. The attempt... It _worked_... And it might have kept working, if they hadn't woken up.”

“So what did you do?”

“I fed. And I kept feeding, and feeding. Normally I would have stopped when I was satisfied, but I didn't. Not then. I just kept going until there was nothing left of them but the bone.”

“That's quite a ghost story, Gabriel.”

“It's true.”

“Sombra says you left the remains as some kind of... Trap for Moira... Is _that_ true?”

The memory made Gabriel smirk, claws drawing small circles on Jack's skin as he sucked in a breath of heat. He couldn't help the laugh that rumbled out of him. “It can't compare to what she did to me, but yes. I left those bodies in her lab, hooked up to her machines. In the morning, Akande will receive word that four men are missing, and they'll go looking. They'll find them there.”

“Moira wasn't on that base though, was she?”

“I don't know, but I also know that no one else there will be able to explain what happened. She doesn't _have_ to be there for her experiments to have delayed reactions. All I'm doing is sewing a bit of discontent between them. The more distrust they have, the easier it'll be to...”

“ _Split them apart._ ” Jack answered quickly, smirking. “That's dark, Gabriel. Dark, and poetic.”

“Sombra said you wouldn't like it.”

“Maybe not then.” Jack shrugged. “Maybe not if it was someone else... But from you, I wouldn't expect anything less.”

“So you're not mad?”

“Gabe... Your cunning was always part of the reason I admired you. You took a bad situation and turned it into something useful... And you came out of it... Looking so...”

“ _So... What, Jack?_ ”

“ _Gabriel..._ ” Jack all but purred, grinding himself closer. “I want you.” He confessed, and the shade rumbled something of a laugh back at him, until their lips drew close and they kissed again. Their conversation tapered off as they let their actions do the talking for them. After a few minutes, Gabe's hands slipped down between them, slipping over Jack's already excited length and beginning to stroke. Jack groaned, his own fingers sweeping down over Gabriel's torso before shifting so that he could straddle his hips. Lips found Gabe's neck and soon, teeth followed. Jack bit him feverishly, moaning hotly against his flesh as he was stroked and teased. The feel of _Reaper's_ claws on his skin was a wickedly exhilarating sensation, and each pull drew another moan through his lips.

It wasn't long before two of those hands dropped down and hoisted Jack up just enough to position himself. Then, slowly, bit by bit at the water of the bath would allow, he let the man sink down onto him, both groaning with pleasure. Jack began to grind, gasping against the man's neck, his hands clutching tightly onto Gabe's chest and shoulder as his body moved. Thew water sloshed, spilling carelessly over the side of the tub as the two had at each other, their grunts growing steadily louder and more eager. Smoke radiated off of Gabriel in thickening sheets and Jack couldn't help but to breathe it in. To breath _him_ in. To others, the scent of the man might have been a turn off, but to Jack, it seemed perfectly suitable- a reminder of old times, and now, a reminder of just _who_ had him trapped in his claws.

And trapped, he was. One of Gabe's hands had reached up and curled around the back of Jack's neck, smoothing through the short hair at the back of his neck, goading him closer- goading him into another bite. Jack knew from experience that Gabriel liked a little bit of pain, so he bit again, this time sucking on the mark, not at all thinking about how the mark would look later... Surely, it wouldn't show on Gabriel's dark skin, right? The slight tightening of Gabe's hand on his neck, the prick of his claws, was enough to make Jack whisper his name. And hearing his name... _On Jack's lips..._

Oh, that was all it took. Gabriel's teeth grated together, a breath sucked in hotly between his teeth, his arms suddenly came around Jack, possessing him like a thing that he craved and spinning him around. He put Jack on his knees in the tub where he had just been laying, mounting him easily from behind, and Jack uttered a grunt, hot and lustful, a wordless beg for Reaper to take what he wanted.

And Reaper took. He gave into the primal hunger that consumed him over his want for Jack- and would _always_ have- for Jack Morrison. He didn't care how loud it got, and he didn't care if anyone needed them somewhere else. Eventually, to save Jack's knees, he lifted the man up and pressed him against the wall instead, getting into him from behind and bringing his lips down on Jack's shoulder. He kissed and nipped, until finally, a louder grunt forced his mouth open, and he bit down on the other's shoulder, causing him to moan out, his forehead pressing against the warmed tile.

Eventually, Jack's body couldn't take any more, and he came hard, shuddering against the siding, quivering in that multi-armed grasp as Gabriel pushed into him again and again. The wrath felt the trembling frame of the powerful soldier beneath him and knew that he'd caved. With a small, dark laugh, Gabriel drove into the man as hard as he could, drawing himself closer and closer to his own peak until he found it, incidentally biting a little _harder_ on Jack's shoulder- enough so that he was shocked when the skin gave way to his teeth. As he finally seeded the man, he drew back, releasing his bite, but the mark was there, with four small red dots of blood.

“ _Mmnnh... Sorry._ ” He purred, pressing his forehead against the back of Jack's head. The soldier laughed, panting.

“Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have wanted you any other way.”

“ _Violent and overdone, you mean?_ ” Gabe teases as he slowly draws up, away from Jack's spine finally.

“An animal.” Jack reminded hotly, turning to face Gabriel so that they could kiss again, and they did.

Shortly after, Gabriel lets the tub start to empty, and they both shower anew, needing to be rid of the sweat of their passion. Refreshed, the two settle in for a drink and a few old shows as promised. At the end of the night, Gabe stands, ready to say goodnight to Jack.

But, Jack doesn't leave.

Instead, the Soldier makes himself at home in Gabriel's bed with him, content... Like old times.

 

By morning, Gabriel's skin had returned to its natural caramel tones, scars and all... And with it, a _very_ dark, noticeable hickey on the side of his neck. His fangs were gone, too, and his eyes, a familiar chestnut that the Soldier was glad to see again.

 

“Something's happening,” Sombra interrupted, a day later, gathered in the cafeteria with Gabriel, Jack, and Ana, who were all sitting together with coffee and small, sweet treats obviously brought around for the holidays. Gabriel, despite knowing the food wouldn't do much for him, ate anyway, praying it wouldn't make him sick later. “Something on... On Talon's end.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, noting the frantic look in the hacker's eyes. She had a holo-screen on her hand showing at least three or four different screens, all going so fast that Gabriel could hardly keep track.

“I mean that something's _happening!_ ”

The images came into focus, bit by bit. Security cams, one at a time, blinked and surged until they showed clear. They were hallways, flight decks, prison chambers-

“Sombra... These are _Talon_ cameras.” Gabriel suddenly says as he recognizes more than a few locations. She was flipping through them rapidly, as many as she could, making note of the locations.

“Should we be doing this here?” Ana suddenly says, wisely. The three of them stand at once, and as they talk, all watching with rapt attention, they make their way towards the command station, where Winston is probably having lunch- that was, roughly half a jar of peanut butter crammed between two thick slices of bread.

Predictable, really, because that was exactly where he was, talking casually with Lena who sat nearby.

“Sir, you need to see this.” Jack barked, catching the Gorilla's attention... It still sounded _strange_ hearing Jack call anyone else Sir in any legal format. Gabe decided he didn't like it almost immediately.

“Oh?” The ape put down said sandwich and turned to face them, as did Lena, naturally. “What's happening?”

“I can't be sure,” Sombra said, “But Talon has let me in, or... Or something. I thought I would try again, a few minutes ago. I thought maybe I could bypass one of the firewall mainframes for a few of their lesser-known bases, offshore, but... But when I got in more or less without a hassle, I started digging. Their entire defense line is down! They're operating on the equivalent now of nothing more than a few bank pin numbers and a wifi password. It's... It's _embarrassing_. But, here's the thing... I couldn't do this before, which means that something is _deliberately_ doing this to them. I can't be sure how long it will last. I'm scanning for all their locations... I'm looking... For...”

“For _what?_ ” Ana suddenly barks.

“For _him!_ Jinx! If he's here, if he's in the system, I would find him. If they have him imprisoned, I can know where, but... But I don't see him anywhere. We need to take advantage of this, Sir. We need to know what's going on.”

“Do you think he's caught on? That he realizes Talon doesn't have Yasmine? Do you think he somehow sabotaged them?” Winston asked abruptly, and the hacker shrugged.

“I don't... I don't know. I feel like, if he was, he'd have left a message. He'd let us know it was him, or he'd have deliberately sent us some kind of message when this happened.”

“How often do you try to hack Talon?” Gabe asked, wanting some kind of timeframe.

“Once a day, Gabe. Usually for an hour or two, so this is new. Brand new. They don't even seem _aware_ that it's happ-” Her words cut off abruptly and her eyes suddenly widened. “Holy shit. Well there he is-”

“Jinx? Is that him?” Jack stammered as all of them crammed around the screens. Sombra suddenly moved, making a few short gestures with her hand, and suddenly displayed the images on the main monitor of the command room, a large screen on the far wall.

An omnic of a deep, slate blue colored metal, eyes orange like hot embers, downward slanted on the inside and vaguely triangular with brighter inner halos of light, and number of small lights along his forehead that were vaguely reminiscent of Mondatta's and circular spots down down the sides of his neck, all glowing yellow. Small sharp ridges at the top of each temple lead back to what could have been considered the omnic's ears, and its chin, a slightly lighter shade of cobalt blue, came to two sharp points on either side of his chin. He had a sleek design, obviously more modern, run through with wiring similar to Sombra's own. He wore dark jeans, a belt, and a loose undershirt that had clearly been beneath some kind of dress shirt, and from beneath Gabe could see the glow of even more lighting. On his left hand... A wedding ring. It was a small gesture, strangely human, and yet... Gabe found himself moved by such a small thing. Moved, because once again, the way that he had looked at omnics for so long was challenged, and once again, he was forced to confront the idea that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had _always_ been wrong about them...

There was certainly a very lonely, very human woman who would be devastated now to see where her husband was, while she was being kept safe in Fiji, without him.

The omnic was traditionally chained down at his wrists and ankles and neck, but there was something else that kept him still- a set of tubing and wiring that was plugged into him. He looked sedated, as if they were keeping him locked down until they could make him cooperate.

“It isn't him.” Sombra deduced suddenly. “If it was him, he'd be even more lit up than he is right now. It looks like they are preparing to reprogram him. We cannot allow this to happen.”

“Where is he?”

“... No where close. Australia. It looks like Talon has managed to build a fortification under ground, under the fallout layer. It's possibly under water. Not easy to get to, and impossible to escape alone. We will have to get to him. It's likely a new installation, because it wasn't there when I left.”

“Talon works quickly.” Gabe advised. “We're going to have to be just as quick if we intend to save him. It won't be long before Talon realizes that their security is down somehow, and once they know we've been spying on him, they'll do one of two things... Reprogram him immediately, or move him to a new place. We have to go _now._ ”

“Morrison, Reyes, I am sending you two... Take Jaelen with you.”

“Sir? This is a dangerous mission.” Gabriel warned.

“Jaelen is tougher than you give her credit for, Reyes. The outback was her home for years- or didn't she tell you that? She's better prepared for this than anyone else here _could_ be.”

 _What? Since when?_ Besides Owellton, Gabriel had no real reason to think that Jaelen was familiar with Australia at all. Needless to say, they were going to have something to talk about on the ride over. Gabe did not reply to the gorilla, who had clearly looked over her file more than a couple times.

“I'm also sending Reinhardt and Angela. You will need some help in there.”

“Sir, this isn't a stealth mission?”

“Not if what Sombra says is true about the base. Besides, they will know you're coming long before you get there, probably, making a stealth mission next to impossible, and suicide for anyone who tries. Sombra, see if you can keep them out of the loop for as long as possible. Keep their _systems_ running under a guise, so they won't be any the wiser when they go prodding. We will have to delay them as long as we can, because the flight- Italy to Australia? Hardly short by any calculations.” The scientist replied. “I'll also be sending the new one- the Russian, Alexandra, with you. She needs to see how we work as a team.”

“Sir, are we intending to give up my... existence to them?” Reyes prods.

“No. You have the most important part of this job. Sombra will guide you to Jinx, and you will teleport him out. Do it quietly. Hopefully, she will be able to give you some cover. If you see anyone- or if anyone sees you- I trust you to know how to handle them. Jack and the others will provide a defense until he's safe.”

“A distraction, you mean.” Jack corrects.

“ _Same difference_.” Winston replies quickly. “Jaelen will be with them. They won't be looking below them with our guns at their front. Ana and Jesse will be on the ship as back up- We'll be taking three ships, just in case something happens to the others.”

A safe plan, Gabriel thought, though he really rather hoped it wouldn't come to any of that.

 

Australia was a long, long flight. The ships traveled different routes, so that it was unlikely that they could be traced easily to the source. Gabriel was in the ship with Jaelen and Jack. Ana and Reinhardt and Zarya had taken another, while Angela, Sombra and Jesse had taken the last. Jack sat beside Gabriel, leaning against him somewhat as they flew. Jaelen was on the opposite side of him, playing a game on her holo-phone, occasionally cursing as the failed or lost some advantage.

“Coffee?” Jack asked as he moved to stand, stretching his body somewhat. It was a long way there still, and they had to be awake when they arrived.

“Uh. Sure.” Gabe replies. “Extra sugar, Jack. I'll need it.”

Jack smirks, then heads up into the front of the ship to fetch it. Gabe idly glances over at Jay, who suddenly gets frustrated with her game and closes it with a small, rough squeeze in momentary rage. Gabe smirks.

“I'm sure you'll get it some day. Not if you give up though.”

“It's a real whore's trap.” She snapped. “Piece of shit rage-fuck-”

“Jay.”

“Sorry.” She huffs.

Gabriel decides to change the subject.

“So...” He starts casually, “Winston said that you had experience in Australia... That you'd been there before... Or something, extensively.”

“I told ya to read my file, Gabi.”

“And I told you I _can't_. Besides... A File is just statistics and notes. I want to hear it from you... Unless you think I don't deserve-”

“Don't pull that manipulation bullcrap on me, Gabi. It ain't like that at all, and you know it-” She sighs, looking away. Gabe smirks faintly. She's come to know him so well, and yet, he still knew so little about her... And She knew it. The guilt was in her eyes.

Finally, she relented and shrugged. “I don't talk about it much cause I ain't exactly proud of it. Where I been... What I done.”

“What did you do?” Gabe asked, his voice more gentle, or as gentle as the rasp would allow it to be. “You said you worked with deadlock or... Something.”

“Somethin' like that... But that ain't all of it, right? It's... Look. I was a young, rebellious kid.” Which sounded strange coming out of her lips, because she still looked, and very much acted like a young, rebellious kid. “So yeah, I went up... Joined Deadlock. Did the whole shtick. Initiation... All that. A few years in, they decided that they'd rob my folks. Word got out somehow that they were loaded, and Deadlock wanted in. I... Told you that I was kicked out, right? After I tried to get back what they took... I..” The girl looked down, sighing. She drew up the hood of her red coat and seemed to sag downward. “I lied.” She finally confesses.

“What?” Gabe asks, though he isn't too surprised.

“I lied, Gabi. Made a fib. Told you a fuckin' story. I guess that's what I wished had happened, but it didn't. Not really.” She paused, as if expecting him to tell her off, or something, for deceiving him, but when he didn't she looked over at him curiously. Reaper looked unexpectedly understanding... But of course he would. He knew all about lies and deceit, didn't he? “Deadlock _did_ try to rob my parents... They did. But I... I Guess I felt like they ain't done anything wrong, so I went there. I went there just before the heist and I warned them. I tried to tell them what as being planned. But, Deadlock didn't like that... No. They decided to burn the entire place down... With us inside. I got them out. Their safe... It got out... But.” The girl paused, struggling as she remembered it. Gabriel could practically see it in her eyes as she recalled the event, telling him every word.

 

~

 

Jaelen stood on the doorstep of the front door of her parent's mansion, weapons drawn, in front of at least twelve deadlock members, guns drawn on her as she tried to hold them off. They had swarmed the well-groomed courtyard seconds before, rushing towards her. The wealth of this family was obvious by the iron fences they had scaled over to reach her, and by the multi-stories the house boasted- only one of many in this large cul-de-sac on the outskirts of the city of Hamilton, Ontatio, Canada. Everything about it was perfect, except for the situation that now took place. They didn't know it, but she was buying time. Her parents were getting out the back just now, along with a safe. The safe- it had kept everything in it. Inside the safe, besides a few stacks of hard cash, storage chips that lead to safe accounts in secure banks, overseas and wherever else they had decided to store it. They never trusted keeping everything in one place when it came to their funds, but they had taken the most crucial of their safes, small enough that the two of them could hoist it without a terrible lot of trouble. Everything they had, they had worked their asses off for, and Jaelen had taken that for granted her entire life. She could have stayed with them and wanted for nothing... But she refused. The girl wanted danger in her life, and had fled. Now, here she was, back at home, cursing up a storm, pistols raised.

“Carter! You little bitch, fuckin' move! This moneys ours and its been ours since the day you walked into our fuckin' bar! Fuckin bargaining chip, remember?! YOU PROMISED THIS! You said if we let your sorry ass in, that some day, we'd have it, and god damnit Carter, we're goin' to fuckin' have it!”

“WELL YOU AIN'T. I fuckin' changed my mind!” She finally snaps.

“Well it ain't up to you no more! Deal's a deal, girl, now move aside, or you're gonna die with them!”

“Then I guess I'll die!” She roars back at them, suddenly pulling the triggers in her hands. Shots fired back at her, and the girl staggers back, narrowly avoiding a head shot as she retreats into the house. She wants to flee and follow her parents, but if she does, she'll lead Deadlock right to them, and then they'll all be dead. This door was a sufficient choke, and she was a good shot- better than most of them, anyway. In a rush, she shoved her pistols away and reached for the nearest bit of furniture- an end table that she could barely move made of solid wood and dragged it in front of the door, struggling just to move it. Seconds later, they had moved in and begun banging on the door, trying to get in, and she heard some windows break in the room adjacent to this one. Jaelen jolted, rushing upstairs, preparing to make one of her last stands inside the bedroom she had grown up in...

But the noise had stopped. There was yelling outside, but it was growing more and more distant. She couldn't quite make out what it was that they were saying.

 

It was suddenly very quiet.

No breaking glass, no gunshots, no screams... She was sure she had shot a few of them out there, and now that she was standing against the far wall of a bedroom that she had barricaded, there was a stinging pain in her leg that bled... A lot. One of them had gotten her somehow, and now, she sagged against the wall, all the way down to the floor as she reached for her bleeding left calf, struggling to keep it from soaking everything. Thinking quickly, Jaelen reached for the nearest bit of cloth- a bedsheet, which she tore a scrap off of and tied it about her, all too aware how quiet things had become. The silence was beginning to unnerve her. Something was _wrong._

 

Surely, Deadlock hadn't suddenly given up on their prize, not when all she had done was barricade the door...

 

Then, a sound. A vehicle of some kind. Not a car.

 

A small ship. Someone's private flier...

 

Dread filled Jaelen's gut.

 

Fire. Fire and death.

A safe could survive those things.

 

Jaelen could not.

 

Suddenly forgetting her pain, she scrambled to her feet and rushed for the door, which she had barricaded, effectively trapping herself inside. She cursed as she struggled.

 

But it was too late.

 

The bomb tore through the top floor first, and then, the floor Jaelen was in. All she could remember was white hot pain, followed quickly by sudden darkness and the sensation of hot, sticky blood pooling around her body as she laid there, condemned to death.

 

~

 

“So that's what happened see... They destroyed the house, found the remaining safes, and took off, so I'm told.”

“B-But you survived!” Gabriel stammered.

“...Sort of.” Jaelen replied, sighing. “My folks were still there. Not inside, but close. They got help. Got me out, and then...” The pauses made it clear that she struggled to talk about it. She looked up and over at him. “You think I'm in my twenties. Don't you?”

“You seem it.”

“My parents cryo-froze what was left of me to see if I'd make it. They... They waited until technology was far enough along to replace the parts of me that I lost... See. You think that Jesse's too old for me. The reality is that I'm thirty-six, Gabriel.”

“Wh- whoa... I uh... I didn't know.”

“I know you didn't. No one really does... They don't know what they see when they look at me. I knew of you when I was a girl. I knew about the heroes in Overwatch. I had posters of you guys, before I ran away from home. I watched your face on the news as they replaced you.”

“What happened to you, Jaelen? How did you survive?”

“When the building caved in, part of the debris cut off my arms, crushed most of my rib cage, shattered part of my hip... So they replaced it all-”

Suddenly, Gabriel's eyes widened. That's what Jaelen had meant before. Her comments about omnics, about prosthetics and how she seemed to know so much about how _Gabriel_ felt about himself- omnic or human, or something between... That was how she remembered what the world was like... before. Over half of her body had to be mechanical. Suddenly, he remembered when he had first spotted her, fighting in the pits of Owellton with nothing but her fists and some brass knuckles- enhanced strength that he hadn't even considered before. “Prosthetic skin is as convincing as the real thing, ain't it?” She mused as she saw him staring at her. “You'd have never known otherwise. I like to keep it that way. Cost a pretty penny, though. My folks used almost all their savings to keep me alive. When I came out of cryo and they fixed me up, I didn't move. I was in a coma, doctor's said... Still, they kept me alive. When I finally woke up, they had moved on. They thought I was a vegetable, but they couldn't bring themselves to simply disconnect me and let me die. I had saved them, after all. I was on my way to reunite with them, in Numbani, when Doomfist arrived. Fucking Akande... When I saw what he had done to them, I vowed to destroy him. But to do that, I needed power and connections. I took what money they had left me and I moved to the only place where I felt like I fit in...

Junkertown. Everyone there was some kind of half-omnic, half-human monstrosity, so when I arrived, I felt more or less right at home. I started fighting, and putting my guns to use. I worked my way up the chain. Made friends with the right people... The wrong people. The Queen...”

“You were _friends_ with the Queen?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

“I wouldn't say we were friends. I was like... Her private assassin, I guess. Or, her champion. If physical fights happened that she didn't want to be in, she threw me into the scrap. She saw my parts get upgraded. That's how I got stronger. She got me these pistols... Now, I knew Talon wasn't stepping foot in Junkertown, and neither was Deadlock. That was _her_ domain, and they didn't want an enemy in her. Well, I did my work there for a while, until the Queen met someone else. Some new understudy who she decided she liked more'n me. Someone who could do just as much work. She liked me, but there wasn't room for two of us beneath her. She was afraid we'd rise up over her and take over her throne, so, she threw me out... Off to Owellton I went. It was nearby, and I could make money there- and put down Deadlock thugs now and again too. _Win win situation, I guess._ Then, Jesse Fuckin' McCree walked in through our doors one day and met me. Then, years later, as you know, he recruited me... Now here I fuckin' am, sitting in a plane, ready to drop onto in like the bomb that tore my world apart.”

“You don't sound happy about it.” Gabe replied. “I thought you liked Overwatch?”

“Hey... Look, I didn't mean any offense.” Jay said gently, looking at him. “You guys have done amazing things for me... For everyone, the way you always do... I just think, I guess, that some things can't be fixed... And... And maybe they shouldn't be. I'm a better person now than I ever was then, and that never would have happened if some terrible things hadn't happened first. I just didn't expect that I'd be workin' as a hitman for yet another organization.”

“Don't think of yourself that way, Jay.” Gabe tried to soothe, and her hazel eyes met his, looking for an explanation. “You're one of us now. You're a soldier. Fighting to protect people like who you used to be. Fighting to protect people who will later replace us. It's important, what we do... And great things have costs. We do what we do because we must... None of it's easy.”

“... Yeah... You're right.” She replied, trailing off somewhat as she could hear Jack returning with coffee. “So you don't... Uh. You don't think any less of me, now that you know? I was afraid you would.”

“... No Jay. Why would I? You still seem plenty human to me... And even if you weren't?” Gabriel looked away, struggling to find words for what had been on his mind now for a while. “The omnics of today aren't the ones I fought years ago. They're not the same, nor responsible for what they did. It would be childish of me to hold onto that hate... I can't do it anymore. You're still Jaelen, inside, regardless what they turned you into. We're the same in this... And I'm glad you told me. You should think of Overwatch as your family now... They're here to help you.”

“And you?” She asked.

“...What about me?”

“You... Have you decided to stay finally? That you're not going to disappear?”

And that made Gabriel think. For a long time it had been up in the air, hadn't it? He didn't know where he was going to go, or how things were going to be. He knew that if he intended to escape some kind of judgment... He would _have_ to disappear. But if he did that, he'd be leaving all those who mattered to him behind. Apparently, at some point, he had decided.

 

“No, Jay. I'm not going to disappear. I'm not going anywhere... I am part of Overwatch now.”

And when that payment for his crimes came due, he would pay it.

 

Jack arrived seconds later with three coffees- it seemed he had overheard part of Gabe's conversation with Jaelen, and her's was made into a proper cappuccino like the ones she enjoyed at home- it brought a wide smile to her lips as her eyes glittered up at the man.

“Thank you, Jack...” She said gently. The girl looked like she was restraining tears just barely.

 

They arrived a few hours later, and by then, everyone was ready and on edge. Gabriel's hood was up, mask on, and Soldier had slipped on his visor and pulse rifle. It was strange for him to see Jack standing there like that... In the same uniform he had been in for years, fighting him... And Jack looked at him just the same way. Eventually, they both looked down, laughing somewhat at each other- about where they were now, and how far they'd come. Jaelen was busy checking her pistols and drawing up her own hood.

“Why don't _I_ get a mask?” She asked suddenly, interrupting the two soldiers as they gawked at one another. They glanced over towards her, head tilting.

“Mine's not a mask. It's a visor.” 76 rebuked.

“It's a mask.” Reaper argued. “Anyway... What kind of mask would you even want, Jay?”

“I don't know. Maybe like... a Cardinal?”

“A Cardinal? How? Why?”

“Cardinals... You find them a lot up where I was at in Canada. Near the great lakes... They're red, and my name's Jay. You can't say it isn't fittin'...”

“...She's not wrong, Gabe.” Jack replied through his visor. Gabe could almost sense his corny little smile.

“ _Fine_. I guess we can figure something out later. You'll be fine for now.” Gabriel mused. The ship was landing, and out of one of the small rectangular windows at the top of the cabin, Gabe could see that the other ships had already landed- not by the ships themselves, but by the disturbance of sand around the landing spot. All of the ships were stealthed, and so would be the party as they moved in. Gabriel would go ahead of everyone, finding a way in before they started the distraction.

 

Each of them reached up, clicking the comm devices into their ears, except for Jack, who's comm was built into the visor. Sombra's voice broke into Gabriel's ear.

 _“Ready to go, boss?”_ She teases- it was something she used to call _Reaper,_ and between them, the joke was obvious.

“As ready as I'm going to be. Let's move.” Gabriel rumbles, moving to the cargo door. It cracks open with a rush of hot air and a gust of red dirt and sand. Gabriel's vision is assaulted with the Australian outback, a flat plane with jutting, stereotypical plateaus of bright red stone, small yellowing grasses and shrubs of pale green. And the sky, while it was still blue, wore the marks of a clear pollution. Somewhere, something, someone was still pumping fumes into the air. The collapse hadn't been kind on this place- not even a little bit.

Before he left, Sombra cut in again.

“ _You're good. I've hacked the cameras for the time being. Make your way as quickly as you can. Once you're in, I'll have to let the cameras run again so that they don't catch on. Keep yourself out of line of sight. Stay quiet. You know the drill._ ”

“Got it. And the others?”

“ _They'll be going in fifteen minutes from now. Long enough for you to get into the underbelly._ ”

 

Gabriel left the ship then, for the time being, sparing his abilities for when he was actually inside. He didn't want to have another mishap like the last mission. At first, he had no idea what he was looking for. They had said the base was largely below ground, and that it was near the coast. Well, they _were_ near the coast. Gabe could smell the salt in the air, and when he finally turned, he spotted the vast, expansive beach, white sands, and what looked like a docking station. It was clearly abandoned on the surface. It was a rectangular dock with four piers, and a large building stretched among them at the end, leading far down into the corals and sand. There were several ancient looking ships docks at the piers, some larger than others, none of which bore today's light engines... In fact, these hardly had lights at all. The large portion of them had been completely looted, and some whole sides had been ripped completely open and gotten into from beneath. Another sat completely on its side. This place had been forgotten by the world for ages... It made sense that Talon would be here.

Suddenly, it was not Sombra in his ear, but Jaelen.

“ _Ok Gabi. First thing you're going to do. This place isn't safe. The water really, really isn't safe. Don't touch it. And don't go lookin' at anything swimmin' around in there. That ain't safe either. You're goin' to need to tell me what you see._ ”

“What?” He uttered back at her. “ _Why?_ ”

“ _Because some shit is toxic, ya dolt. If you cut yourself on a wrong bit of metal, your flesh is gonna start rottin' off. If you breathe in the wrong kind of gas, you'll pass out or suffocate. You ain't that immortal. The deeper you go, the worse the hazards are gonna get. In all likelihood, the guy's you'll be lookin' for wont even be human, which puts you at a disadvantage. They wont have to breathe, so unless they planned on planned on people being here, it's unlikely they will have pumped all the chambers. If you do find anyone, they'll probably have masks on-_ ”

“Why didn't you tell us this before we left! Why don't I have a mask for this!”

“ _I didn't know where it was going to be! Ain't like I'm privy to top secret details now am I? They brought me along to help navigate and identify. I'm goin' to be with the main crew, watchin out for them while you're movin'. You see any green metal, don't touch it, and hold your breath. You see any yellow metal, go the other way... Entirely. Don't ask. If it's yellow, it means there's water on the other side. Think of it like... Like a rusty bucket full of acid. If the yellow breaks, acid-water's going to spew in on you. Got it?_ ”

“Alright...” He said, tentatively making his way out onto one of the piers. He moves hastily, stepping across stone and metal, looking for any discoloration. The further out he goes, the stronger it begins to smell- similar to rot. It's a good deterrent to outsiders, to be sure. When he arrives, he finds the building, now much larger than it looked on the shoreline, with a dome of cracked windows and a very abandoned looking harbor reception. Talon doesn't even come up here. They're clearly using this facility below the surface only... Far, far below the surface. Gabriel finally allowed himself to seep in, his form disintegrating like a thousand particles of black sand, just a little bit more pollution in this broken place.

He rushes quickly downward, knowing that his time is limited, as are his resources. The last thing Gabriel wants is to become trapped in a toxic metal deathtrap below ground where he can't breathe or touch anything, for that matter. The pipes were understandably neglected here and there, but the lower he went, the more that green and yellow rust began to disappear, and newer, stronger titanium, iron and steel- among whatever other state of the art alloys Talon could afford- became more prevalent. Some metals seemed to reject the poisonous gas and water entirely, holding up despite it. Eventually, the vent Gabriel entered broke down into a massive conditioning center, specifically for purifying and pumping the air. The stench was heaviest here, but as the ghost was eager to get away from it, he didn't linger long, disappearing once more into vents, this time, new pipes that pumped air directly down into the base. The stink of it disappeared immediately. Now and then, Sombra would cue into his earpiece and let him know the time, or warn him of eyes up ahead. Eventually, he arrived just above the ceiling of what to be a sort of central chamber that lead off to the various quarters of the base, narrowly dodging any wandering eyes of passing, busy workers in thick coats of black armor or white, barking reports into private-line radios. He waits, hesitating in the piping as Sombra finally responds to his heated request for guidance.

“ _Be careful,_ ” She warns, “ _The cameras up ahead are out... Counter-hacked, maybe? Jinx might already be working for them. But... If this map is still correct... Left, and then another left, and a right._ ” Probably Talon's response to her hacking, as an attempt to keep her blind, Gabriel thinks, if not Jinx finally giving in.

Soon, Gabriel can tell he's going the right way. This is a prison chamber, and there is a long corridor of doors into cells on either side. Images of Blackwatch flicker back into Gabriel's mind... It was such a familiar set up that he already knew, without any more instruction, exactly where Jinx would be. He rushed forward, surging towards a large, double-vaulted door at the end of the hall...

 

But something was off.

Something was _always_ off.

But this time, it was different. The further he went, the more he realized how few people seemed to be here. In fact, come to think of it, every time he'd seen someone walking around the base, not only had they been rushing, but they had been omnic. He hadn't seen a human anywhere- and someone had warned him that might be the case, but more disturbing was that, when he reached the chamber itself, it sat...

 

Open, unlocked, and abandoned.

There was no one inside.

 

Wires and plugs hung uselessly from the walls and ceiling, and though there were tools on a metal bench near the door, none of them appeared used. It didn't look like there had been a struggle. What the hell had happened here?

“ _Sombra... I'm seeing something strange down here,_ ” He rumbles in a warning tone, finally coalescing in the empty chamber, knowing that the cameras are out, and that there's no one nearby to see him- and he needs the chance to breathe.

“ _Us too_.” Jack suddenly cuts in. “ _What are you seeing, Gabe?_ ”

“Nothing... There's no one here. Jinx is gone.”

“ _It's like they've all run for cover!_ ” Boasts the loud German in their party, whose voice constantly makes him sound like he's yelling.

“ _Boys, we have a problem._ ” Sombra sounds confused. “ _It isn't just Jinx. The cameras are out, so I can't see anyone... But... My sensors aren't finding anyone. I don't mean like, a few people... I mean no one. I detected a power ripple a minute ago... I... I thought that it was just a flux from the toxicity and the metal, but... Now..._ ”

“A teleporter.” Gabriel deduces suddenly. If he was quick, he might still find it- and if he could... The wraith was suddenly moving, exploding into a black plume and racing back the way he'd come, now avoiding pipes entirely and speeding down hallways that had held people in them just minutes before. He searches, but there is no sound, nothing that might give away what had happened... There's _no one_ here...

And no teleporter.

“There's nothing here.” He growls almost venomously into his comm. It bothers him that, somehow, a whole collection of omnic talon agents, including Jinx himself, have somehow managed to slip out beneath their noses. That, somehow they've gotten away, or that they even _knew_ Overwatch was there, and to be able to evacuate in time. How was this possible?!

As if flying for several hours wasn't bad enough, not only had they failed their mission, but they also allowed their targets to _escape_ , rendering the entire mission a colossal, expensive failure. In a small, quiet rage, Gabriel lets his shadows disperse and then circle around his feet. Seconds later, he sinks into them, becoming one of them and letting the darkness take him back towards the ship, infuriated. It takes only seconds, but when he arrives in the center of the ship, he is not alone. It's... Hectic. Everyone's confused and trying to voice their opinions on what has happened, and more over, what they ought to do. No one was arguing or yelling... Not yet, but tensions were high, and it was clear that people are furious... All except for Jaelen, who hardly seems invested. She's sitting on the side of the cargo bay in a seat, her holo in hand.

“You alright?” He asked her as the three different parties split back up, albeit slowly, to return to their ships. A heavy debrief would be had back at the base later, when they arrived.

“Been better, I guess. We failed.”

“...I don't think there was anything we could have done, Jaelen. They knew we were here, somehow. They knew, and they got him out. All we can do now is figure out how. Sombra suspects that Jinx is working with them... I didn't see any sign of a struggle, which seems to suggest that she's not wrong...”

“...So what about Yasmine?” Jaelen asks.

Gabriel shrugs and shakes his head.

“I don't know... If it's true that he's helping them... Either he's cooperating to save her life, or they managed to reprogram him on our flight over here. It's nothing good, either way. There's nothing we can do about it right now at any rate.”

The ride home is mostly quiet, with Jack and Gabe theorizing the events, and what they ought to do next. Gabriel learns that while he had been inside, the entire party had disembarked from the ships and set for their assault on the base, only to discover, as they reached the end of the piers, that not only was the top level completely abandoned, but completely locked off from everything below as well. It seemed to suggest that there was an under-water loading bay somewhere that they had somehow missed... Probably stealthed to keep it out of prying eyes such as those of Sombra, or world organizations. There simply was no fight to be had...

One thing remained true: everyone felt somehow stupid and fooled by this mission, despite that they had no idea how else they could have known or what else they could have done. No one was proud, and just about everyone was wearing some kind of shame-face today.

 

The next day is quiet up until the last few seconds before the meeting they're all dreading.

Sombra is placed on full-time monitoring. There's even a few other technicians working with her now to endlessly search and try to find some kind of loop hole, some kind of weakness that Talon may have missed somehow, but ever since they returned home, Talon's been on solid lockdown, a complete lock-down across all of their known communications and outgoing correspondence. It's almost like Talon has _ceased to exist._ There's no trace of them anywhere. No one knows how to respond to the situation other than to keep looking. Tracer and Genji are both immediately deployed to scout two of the known Talon hubs to assess the situation. Scout, not engage. That was very clear.

 

What... Happened to Talon? Were they just... Gone? Where was Jinx?

 

“...Gabe.” Jack says, pulling the shade out of his thoughts. Jack's standing there in a pair of black jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt and a navy blazer. He's dressed up, which strikes the wraith as beyond stunning. He smiles, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and looks over at the pale-haired man, who's standing just in his door entry of his quarters. By comparison, Gabriel feels... Under dressed, wearing just some loose dark blue pants and a red tank top. Resting in Jack's hands... is a gift. It's wrapped in stereotypical Christmas paper, and shoddily done ribbon. He's obviously wrapped it himself, which means a great deal to Gabe, who instantly flushes.

“It's Christmas Eve.” Soldier says, smiling at him as he comes to sit down, resting the gift between them. “I hope it isn't silly but I... I couldn't help myself. I got you something.” He adds.

Gabriel chuckles immediately and shakes his head. “You don't say? Jack... God damnit, you know I didn't, I couldn't-”

“I _know_ , I know. You couldn't get out. It's not a problem. You don't have to, and I'm not expecting anything.” Jack says, nudging the package towards him.

With a faint sigh, Gabe reaches out and takes it, his fingers curling around the sides of it as he tries to discern what it is by the weight and shape of it. Jack feigns impatience and finally, Gabriel laughs and opens the package. Chestnut eyes flick down, landing at once upon what he's been given. His fingers curl around it even more, thumbs landing on the metal of the frame it's been put in. His smile softens, and he feels his emotions threaten to choke him.

He, Jack and Ana stand together, celebrating their victory at the end of the omnic crisis, all of them wearing their blue uniforms, wearing their medals. The picture is faded now and worn with age, small folds where it's been kept, lovingly, in Jack's coat pocket for the last several years.

It's the original. The same one they took that day, the same one he kept in a frame on his desk- the same one that Jack forced him not to hide away.

“Y-You kept it.” Gabriel stammers, trying to keep his voice strong. Jack smiles warmly towards him, his arm sweeping around Gabriel to rub his back gently. “You didn't want to... To get rid of it. To wash it away... To just forget I existed-”

“No, Gabe. You were all I had. This was all I had left... And I was going to keep reminding myself what I was fighting for, no matter what it took... I didn't think I'd ever have the chance to have you back. I didn't think it was possible, because I thought I lost you. I wanted to keep every bit of you that I could... That's why I kept all those other things. I'm sure you saw them...”

“I did.” Gabe admits.

 

“... I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to talk to you again, Gabriel... And now I have.

 

 

… I love you, Gabriel.”

 

 

Gabriel feels his heart stop in his chest as their eyes meet.

 

He is abruptly overcome with emotion, and sets the picture aside, suddenly pulling himself close to Jack, and pressing a deep, adoring set of kisses onto his lips as he feels his body crumble with sheer love. Jack leans back, encouraging and guiding Gabe into his lap, and their arms wrap around one another, tears on either side. Gabe realizes that he couldn't think of one thing he wanted more... Than to hear Jack say those words to him again.

 

 

“I love you too, Jack... More than anything.”

 

 

The next day is the best holiday that Gabriel has had in decades. Everyone is home from their missions, and collect in various rooms all over the base, which has been done up like a magnificent winter wonderland, with snowflakes abound, glowing and floating, songs, and a constant exchange of gifts. There was a feast of great food of almost every conceivable kind, even those that weren't traditional to Italy or the holiday itself. Someone wanted it, the kitchens had it... Gabriel, despite his particular appetite, found himself chowing down regardless of how little it did for him, laughing and sharing both coco and eggnog with the entire group, who finally seem to have put aside the last of their doubts about the Reaper, and who he was. The casual envirodomes, that was, the ones that didn't have crops in them, had been done over with piles and piles of snow. People sledded and had snowball fights, made snow angels and snow men. Laughter was everywhere, along with the bountiful sensation of belonging and family. Jesse and Sombra got into a lengthy, powerful snowball rivalry. Angela and Genji shared their time out in the snow bundled up warm and teasingly building snow men that resembled other members of the company- Reinhardt and Winston among the largest. Mei and Katie taught people how to make _proper_ snowballs, and icicles. Everyone was doing something, including Jay, who seemed to have started talking with the cute lab-assistant she had mentioned weeks prior, laughing and joking in scarves and pouf hats. Tracer, Winston and Emily were sliding down man-made hills and laughing so loudly and infectiously that it was hard not to join them. Torbjorn and Reinhardt had visited for a short while before retiring home to their comparatively large families, away from the base. Zarya made a spectacle of lifting whole snowmen and various other feats of strengths that many of the other operatives found especially impressive. She insisted constantly that it was _colder_ in Russia. Everyone was smiling, and for just a moment, the mystery and worry over Talon was forgotten.

 

Jack never left Gabriel's side... Hand in hand.

 

Gabriel felt _whole._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas guys! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, and enjoy any/all holidays you celebrate this time of year. I wanted to end this chapter on a really warm note and I hope you guys enjoy it very much. As always thank you for reading and let me know what you think! I appreciate all of your compliments and feedback as usual!
> 
> As always, any donations to my new Ko-fi account are massively appreciated!
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/trishields


	39. Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Terrorist attacks that may be disturbing to some.
> 
> Enjoying the story? I have a Ko-fi account, please help me stay afloat! ko-fi.com/trishields

The joy of the holiday could not have been more short lived if anyone tried. Gabriel woke up in his bed, Jack's arms still loosely wrapped around his torso, his body nude and aching with their romp the night prior. An alarm was going off in his room, and only half a second after Gabriel jolted, Jack was awake too. It was an alarm unlike one Gabriel had ever heard, and the look of sheer concern that entered the veteran Soldier's eyes didn't offer any kind of reassurance.

“What is that, Jack?” Gabriel stammered.

“An Alpha alarm-”

“What is-”

“It means something really bad either has happened, is happening, or will happen. We need to get to the command chamber _now_.” Jack urges, and at once, the two super soldiers have launched themselves out of bed and into clothing- Gabriel was done easily quicker than Jack was by his ability to simply _ghost_ into them. As they exit the hall, Gabe's eyes flash onto a mob of people, including Jesse, who are also all leaving their rooms. Images of SEP flash into the wraith's mind, and dread sinks into him like a lead weight... Images of the destroyed, slaughtered midwest filter into his thoughts, making his breath catch in his throat. Jack sees the look in Gabriel's eyes as they look at once another, and a strong hand clasps onto his bicep, but he has no words. He doesn't know what's going on, so he can't say it's going to be okay.

“Mornin' fellas.” Jesse grumbles, sleepy and less alarmed by what's going on, but Gabe can see by the way he trembles with his cigar and lighter that he's nervous... More so than he wants to give on. Neither of the other two reply to him, but all three rush to the command center. At large holo-screens all over the base, people are stopping and staring, watching a live feed of some kind. All Gabriel can see in passing is smoke. When they finally reach the chamber, almost every operative has already arrived. Every screen is streaming feeds, some from news cameras and drones, and one in the center that seems clearer than the rest.

Cairo... Not far from the base that Sombra had destroyed, and not far from the prison that had kept Doomfist held down for so long. This time, it wasn't the prison, but in fact, most of the city. Some buildings had been outright crumbled, others still going down or on fire. Ships circled the city, not only of the media, but ships that filled Gabriel with a harrowing sense of fear. Talon ships. Not stealthed, not hidden... But there, out in the open, shooting at will, destroying everything and _everyone_ except for the drones and media ships following them. They _wanted_ to be seen. Military was already combatting them, but there were so many, and Gabriel could tell that most of the ships weren't even being piloted by real people. In all likelihood, it was remote controlled, or robotic.

At least 6 different languages on different screens relayed what was going on, and it was the one in English that captured Gabe's attention.

“... _less than ten minutes ago. Twelve ships have been counted along with at least a hundred smaller craft. Everyone is being urged to get below ground and take shelter however you can. Military forces are en route by air from more than three countries. This is undoubtedly the work of the notorious terrorist organization known as Talon. They seem to be making no efforts to hide their attack, but so far, Helix Security hasn't had any luck identifying any of the- wait. Wait._ ”

The camera shifts and jerks, suddenly scrolling out and to the side, shaking as a shaken camera man repositions it as the ship they're in circles a smoking building, aiming down between two of the streets. The grey and black smoke makes it hard to see, but a dark figure emerges through the ashes.

Gabriel doesn't need to see it clearly to know exactly who he's looking at. The massive fist was drawn back, charging up with a horrifying sound, and with a roar, Akande unleashes it into the corner of a building, which is already cracked on its foundations with the cracks of several other strikes. Living up to his reputation, it seemed. With a hideous, wicked snap like giant cubes of ice fracturing, the building starts to give way. Akande turns away, allowing gravity to do the rest of the work while he turns and strides, confidently, down the street. He's spotted the camera on him, and his sharp, dark eyes pierce into it. He spoke.

 

“ _You foolish people. You think you know what's happening. You think you have this all under control. The UN has sent your ancient heroes back from their graves to try and rescue you, and you think that it will work. You put all of your trust, your faith in them, blindly hoping, failing to see what this will cause. They failed you before, and they will fail you again. They only bring you... Pain._

_I now speak to those fools at Overwatch. Those pathetic men and women who think that they can stop me- that they can stop Talon. What do you think you're doing? What do you possibly hope to achieve? Do you think that by taking my hacker from me, that you could stop what's coming for you? What's coming for you all? For this world? Conflict is the quintessential drive of improvement. Without it, we become complacent, weak... Easy to destroy. The Omnic crisis showed us how strong we could become... And then, we stopped. Peace... handicapped us._

_We must not forget what we are._

_Animals._

 

 _And only the strongest animals deserve to survive._ ”

 

Akande pauses, and for a moment, everyone holds their breath. They wait to see what the monster has to say, as it is very clear that he orchestrated all of this. His arms widen, gesturing at the city and all of the destruction he has caused. Hundreds of lives have been lost, he knows, just by the sheer devastation he's caused.

 

“ _Do you like what you see, Overwatch? Winston, Tracer? The 'dead' Seventy-Six? Horus? I hope... That you do._

 

 _Jinx will be returned to Talon within the next week. Deliver him to me, Overwatch, or this will begin happening again, and again, every day, until he is delivered. This is but a fraction of Talon's power. Every day, a new city. Every day, hundreds of lives on your shoulders. Return him to me, Overwatch.. You have... One... Week._ ”

 

His threat is heavy and horrifying, and revealing. Gabriel had assumed that he'd been talking about Sombra at first, but that soon became very clear that it wasn't the case.

But... That lead to another problem, didn't it?

Overwatch didn't have Jinx... And they had no idea where he was. If Overwatch didn't have Jinx, and Talon didn't have him, where the hell did he go? What happened to him? Who were the people that teleported out of the Australian base with him?

 

...And how the hell were they suppose to provide him in a _week_ to prevent thousands of people from dying. Moreover, if they found him, would they actually give in to Talon's ransom demand, as it were? And all of this was exactly what Talon wanted. Chaos. Chaos was always what they wanted- even if they didn't intend to make good on the threat, this would cause more havoc than was safe for anyone. Sombra had only narrowly blocked the horrifying video that Talon had tried to send to Lumerico... But this, she couldn't have stopped or anticipated. It was out in the world now, and already underway. Countries would war over this. Nations would fight and deceive, lie and cheat just to save their cities from harm. Some of them might even start working with Talon. One by one, they would ally. What's more was that Gabriel knew there were more than a few radical minds that would actually agree with Doomfist, and possibly join the organization, or try.

 

The feeds continued, but the attack was over. A few ships were dropped by government forces and Helix Security, but the vast majority of Talon, including Akande, escaped.

 

A week. _A week_. How were they going to find a solution in that time? No one knew where Jinx was. And Gabriel was powerless to help. Powerless, because of his anonymity. He needed to find the proof that he wasn't in control... He needed his redemption if he intended to help with this at all. The team needed him, because he knew Talon better than anyone. And until that happened, he was useless to Overwatch. While Jack, Ana and Winston discussed their options and arranged various meeting with world leaders that had the phone's going non-stop, Gabriel stewed on what he had to do.

Evidence. Sombra didn't know where. Edaly didn't know where. Moira... Did. Moira knew, but she was unreachable. They had looked in countless places, searched multiple bases... And information could move so easily, it could have been anywhere. Who else in Talon knew where the information was, he wondered? Was there anyone he could interrogate who wasn't Moira? She was too deeply entrenched in Oasis for him to get to, and too well guarded, probably. Sombra hadn't known, so it was kept from her... And come to think of it... Akande didn't seem to be aware either. Not once in his time around Akande had he ever mentioned Blackwatch, or Gabe's name, or locations- all part of the plan to keep him out of the loop... And then, he had been imprisoned... That meant that the council probably didn't know either. If Gabriel had discovered that evidence before, while he was till in Talon, the results could have meant catastrophe for Talon... How best to keep the information safe other than to make sure there was only one person who knew where to find it?

Which meant that Moira had kept it to herself.

 

And Moira was too smart to store it in Talon.

Moira had been part of Blackwatch before she was part of Talon. Was it possible that she could have made sure the evidence was destroyed in Switzerland? Sure, that would have been safest to keep the information secret...

But Moira was a scientist. She liked to toy and to meddle. She liked her experiments. Could she actually destroy years of successful experiments on Gabriel? Especially while she was using similar experiments on herself?

No.

 

So what did that leave?

Oasis was too populated to make storing the information there safe. Talon was too populated and too big. The lightnet wasn't safe- nothing online was safe from hackers- so they had to be physical. Which meant that Moira would have to hide the evidence in a place in the real world where no one would ever have any reason to look. Someplace no one went.

 

Someplace that no one knew existed.

 

The Underwing.

 

His eyes widened with realization.

 

The first base. It had been abandoned, and the only part of it that was even remotely still used into late Overwatch was the Underwing, by Gabriel and his people themselves. It hadn't been blown up, but since the wing had never been listed in the first place, no one would have gone there to destroy it. Someone surely owned that land now, or else it had been reclaimed by the Government. Gabriel rushed to his holo-phone. Surely, someone will have updated the map in the last several years. Maybe it could give him some clues as to what happened.

 

The result were quick to turn up. Lurking against the darkened side wall of the Command Center while the others talked and planned with each other, Gabriel found the answers he needed.

 

Reclaimed indeed. The forest had, two years after Overwatch's disband, been merged with a nearby wildlife reservation. No one went there now except for travelers, but he could guess that those ground specifically were blocked off to outsiders... Or else they had been torn down entirely, and hidden.

 

“I have to go.” Gabriel said suddenly, causing the others to stop in their talk to look at him. “I have to go back,” he explained quickly, looking at Jack. “The first base. The Underwing-”

“Gabe?” Jack asked, shaking his head, not understanding.

“Jack... I can't help with this if the world doesn't know I exist. You need me on this more than anything. I think I know where the evidence is. I think that Moira hid it there before the explosion. I think she's been hiding it there all these years. I have to go back there and see. I am useless here. You have to let me go.”

“It isn't up to me.” Jack said, glancing towards Winston, who was already overwhelmed. Finally, he nodded. “Do it. I will send Ana and Carter with him. Just on the ship, no more than a couple days. If you can't find anything before then, come back here. We'll need you here.”

“...Yes, Sir.” Gabriel says, suddenly heading out. Ana immediately follows him, and they pick up Jay on the way, who suddenly has a hundred questions.

 

“What are they going to do? Why are we doing this now? Shouldn't we be helping them? Is this our top priority? How will this help?”

“I don't know. We're out of time to wait. We're helping them by doing this, because I can't do _anything_ as long as I'm in hiding. If we can prove that I'm on the good guy's side, I can help solve this problem. But we need to be fast. We only have a week. They will have to find a way to locate Jinx, or otherwise stall Talon. That's not a thing that you or I can do anything about. But we can do this, and this will help.”

“What's going to happen with Jack?” She asks, and Gabe looks at her as they board a ship.

“In all likelihood, he will have to expose himself to the various governments. He'll have to officially declare that he's Seventy-Six, and that he's with Overwatch. He'll have to publicly state that none of the things he did as a vigilante were Overwatch's plans. It wont be pretty, and the world will know that Morrison survived the blast. We intended to reveal him anyway, but we weren't ready for it to happen yet. Talon has forced our hand... And s _omeone_ has to figure out where Jinx actually is. If Talon doesn't have him, and we don't have him... Where is he? Where did he go, and why? If he escaped, he would have contacted us, about his escape, and to tell Yasmine. He didn't. Why?”

“Sounds like a lot of impossible questions.”

“Agreed. One step at a time. Quick steps, mind.”

 

Gabriel hadn't seen these forests in years... Now he remembered why he enjoyed it so much. The trees, the ferns, the green... Now, in the midst of winter, snow covered everything, refusing to melt among the fog that clouded everything. It would be hard just to find the location, let alone dig through it to find the proof. They had two days. Gabriel settled in for a long haul, as it were.

And a long haul it was. The ship sat in stealth in the air as scans looked again and again, finding nothing, until finally something revealed itself; a tiny spot of super-chilled metal. Part of the base, almost impossible to find in this wonderland of white. Reaper had dressed understandably suiting for the search. Attached to his coat, one of Sombra's devices provided something like a stealth, making him appear like a literal ghost in this place as he dropped out of the ship into a pit of snow. Two scarves wrapped around his neck, also shielded by Sombra's little device. In fact, about the only thing it couldn't hide was his footprints in the snow. He approached the small speck of metal jutting from the snow- a piece of rubble. Someone had reduced this place to the ground after the blast in Switzerland. Someone had wanted people to forget it was here, or erase it entirely.

Moira, somehow.

She had buried it in this place.

 

...But... That didn't make sense.

How could she get to the research she held so dear if she destroyed the location?

 

There had to be another way in...

 

At once, he began to search, digging where he needed to, even using the light engines of the ship to melt some of the snow out of his way, bringing it down to wet, crushed pine needles and pine needles below. He found nothing. Eventually, he uncovered the crushed courtyard, the broken glass of the windows leading into Jack's old office. He struggled with his emotions here. They had had such good times, when they were closer... Younger, and before Gabriel was _Reaper._ For the first time in a long time, Gabriel felt _old._ His body hadn't aged quite as much as Jack's had, and for a moment, the knowledge that he was probably going to outlive Jack- assuming Talon didn't get them all killed- was a sour note that hung in the back of his mind.

More and more, Gabriel searched, using his concern to fuel his fire in this cold to look for some kind of opening, some kind of secret entrance... But he found nothing. Even if there had once been an entrance, Moira hadn't been back here in years; it may very well be overgrown at this point.

 

Overgrown.

Overgrown. The word stuck in his head somehow, in some strange way.

 

He remembers Jack's voice as the man tells him about that time... The time he was gentle, out in the woods. Gabriel doesn't remember it, a thing he regrets. Even now, he knows it must have been... Beautiful. He can almost imagine the scene- grassy with those tall trees, a few scattered ferns and wildflowers, the singing birds, the sound of Jack's laughter in the sun, his hair like strands of pure gold. It was overgrown then, but beautiful still. Though Gabriel doesn't quite remember the way, he finds himself following his feet, a small, barely broken path that is packed down with snow. There's no footprints, and nothing to give away that there's any reason he should be out here... But at the same time... When he finds the clearing, however small, he knows it immediately. His eyes scan up into the circular halo of winter light made by the trees overhead, the dusting of snow as it sifts down over him. Gabriel smiles and strides into the center of it, and as he does, his feet scuff slightly against the ground, dusting through the snow.

Then he sees it.

It isn't much, but a barely evident crevice carved by time into the rock in the cliff face not a hundred meters from where he stands. It's inconspicuous and has been untouched for ages. Icicles crust over the top of the shallow cave, and Gabe is compelled to see more. The ground here isn't quite a thick, and as he reaches the stone of the cliff face, he realizes that inside has been almost recently cleaned out. There ought to be dirt here, or pine needles, leaf litter, anything... But there isn't. Just the bare, flat and cracked rock of the cave floor... And at the very back of it, something gleams the familiar cold metal blue of frozen steel.

A trap door.

Rushing forward, Reaper finds that the trap door is a newer installation, at least, newer than the rest of this Overwatch base at the time. It was clearly made sometime after the fall. It's locked, too, a combination lock for which he has no key.

 _For which I need no key,_ Reaper thinks vindictively, coming to a stand. He takes a few paces back, then raises a shotgun at the mechanics, then unloads loudly until his entire clip is empty. Finally, as he lets the gun fall away out of his hand, he can see that the trap door has bowed inward and the latch, irreparably broken. She would know someone had been here if she arrived any time soon. With his talons and a bit of raw strength, he throws open the metal hatch and peers inside. Reporting this to Ana and Jaelen in the ship, he details what he sees.

“A ladder. I don't know how far down it goes, but it looks clean. Recently used- maybe a few months vacant.”

A few months, Gabriel thinks, a few months, which is coincidentally right around the time he left Talon... It seemed that Moira had been keeping tabs on him the _entire_ time. Hesitantly and carefully, he descends, dispersing his body so as to avoid any risk of slipping on the cold metal rungs of the ladder. He starts to make a mental count in his head. Twenty rungs pass, and then twenty more...

It ends at seventy eight...

“About seventy... Seventy five feet down, I'd have to guess.” He reports, but the floor he lands on is pitch black and dark. Hands scrape along the flat walls, finding no sort of light switch, or anything that might help him. Whatever this is, it wasn't meant to be luxurious, or spacious. Gabe's shoulders touch on either side with little more than a bit of room to turn around in, a detail he realizes as he reforms himself, trying to let his eyes adjust in the pitch black darkness, but to no avail. The room is considerably taller than him, however... Tall enough for Moira, but not tall enough for someone like Reinhardt... _Or_ _Doomfist,_ he realizes. This is absolutely intentional on her part. _Why?_

The man begins to feel around the room, the walls, looking for any niches or crevasses that something might be hiding, and he finds nothing, but nearly trips when his feet strike something on the floor at the back of the 'room' with a metal thud. He catches himself and leans down, sliding his hands down the wall to feel out the object. It's a box... A safe of some kind, clearly. This too is locked with a combination. His first instinct is to simply take the whole thing, and though it's obviously heavy, Gabriel knows he's strong enough to hoist it- hell. He trained himself to handle _omnics_ in combat, surely a metal box wouldn't be too hard.

 

If it wasn't somehow screwed to the floor, that was.

 

With a small growl of rage after what feels like two full minutes of struggling with the box on the floor, Gabriel admits defeat, and thinks to risk breaking it open... But then another idea comes to mind. Something he had not quite considered before now. Those extra arms of his could prove to be useful, if he only thought in what circumstances to use them. Reluctantly, braving the cold, he reaches up to remove his coat, leaving him in just his armor, and with it removed, the tech along his back came away as well. The arms soon revealed themselves, and without a second thought, he shoved one of them into the comparatively small keyhole and began to twist, coalescing _just_ enough to make it possible for him to swivel and rotate the lock until he finds the gaps, allowing it to open. It takes several minutes, and it's anything but easy; in fact, there's an odd sort of pain that comes with it, as the limp forms itself enough to push the mechanics, it also develops just enough nerves to feel the crushing confines of the metal tightened in around his flesh...

Though powerful, he is seriously deterred from doing it again.

Finally, the lock pops open as if it had been opened naturally, and the lid slips open. Gabriel withdraws his arm at once, and replaces the coat quickly, feeling the cold more than he expected to. When he finds inside is a collection of paperwork- several notebooks work, along with a few canisters full of memchips... And one of them holds an unknown substance in a significantly thicker, tighter bottle. Quickly, Gabriel stashes everything on his person and makes his way back towards the ladder.

“Ana. We have to destroy this opening. She can't know we were here.”

“ _If we destroy it, she'll know, Gabe._ ”

“She'll know if there are blast marks, Ana... It needs to look natural, like a landslide or...”

“ _Ice._ ” Jaelen suddenly pipes in, and it's a surprise to hear her voice over the comms. Her two elders are stunned into silence as she speaks, and Gabriel ascends back towards ground level. “ _Listen, you don't live a few years in Junkertown without getting' to know the ins and outs of mechanics, ey? Way I see it- this ship's gotta have some kind of hosin' off now and then. They got waster systems on board, yeah?_ ”

“The emergency cooling vents...” Gabe says, awestruck. “You're a genius, Jaelen. The cooling jets are full of nitro. There won't even be a trace of it left once it's done. The stone won't stand up to the cold. It'll collapse.”

“ _Bingo_.” Jay says, he can almost hear her smirk as she mimics McCree.

It's mere seconds before Gabriel can hear the whir of the engines as they draw close, and soon, he's on board with them, shivering slightly as the heat of the cabin suddenly envelopes him. He shrugs off his coat as Ana moves up to the pilot box, offering instruction. The ship maneuvers deftly, and soon, the icy jets have blasted across the front of the cliff face- it's enough to crumble it, and it looks surprisingly convincing... Even if Moira did come back here, she'd have trouble getting in, and it would take her even longer to realize her research was gone... And who had taken it, no less.

Gabriel soon settles in, removing his heavy coat and setting in to stare at what he's recovered. Ana and Jay are soon looming close by.

“I don't know what this is.” Gabe admits as he hands Ana the vial of the unknown substance in its tight vial. To Jay, he hands the two jars full of memchips, though she's unlikely to glean anything from them, considering that they're not labeled.

Gabriel focuses now on what's in his hands instead... A stack of notebooks and a file...

The first notebook has no title; in fact, none of them do. The only thing that separates them is the color of their covers- green, blue and purple, not unlike the kind a college student might be carrying around, crammed full with details, notes in the margins, highlighted sections...

He turns to the first page and begins to read. At first, it doesn't seem like anything- 'innocent' seeming tests done on rodents and rabbits, many of the unsuccessful, spanning months. The desired result? Obedience. Moira seemed to think that by raising rodents in hostile, even traumatic environments, she could condition them to behave and act a certain way- not unlike how the Military conditioned its soldiers- and then, using whatever concoction she was trying to make, force them to deny that training entirely in her favor. Obedience, not unlike what Talon had had over he, and still had, over Widowmaker.

Eventually, he found it... A successful report. Moira's whole hand writing had changed, like she was writing ecstatically, excited and high-spirited. _It sickened him_.

After that, he finds ledgers... Purchases of materials, animals, larger now, goats and horses, and eventually, new locations... Unsurprisingly, some of these were located in Oasis. More reports, more success. Gabriel moves on to the file in his hand.

But there's something strange about it. _Strange_ , in that it's labeled _Soldier 24_ , and not... 75, like he expected. Tentatively, he opens it, baited breath as he waits.

Then, there it is.

 

Soldier 75

G. Reyes. SEP Captain. Senior: Overwatch Founder.

Commanding Officer: Walcott.

 

_Alcohol seems to be having an effect on the Subject. I can't help but notice that he has it almost constantly nearby... Possibly an alleviation for his mental traumas. This can be easily exploited._

_Day 1: I have prescribed Reyes his first dose. He should not expect or feel much of a change, but over time he will become more accepting, and I can introduce the changes to his genetics. Updates in three days._

_Day 4: As expected, the dose was taken with ease. I have ordered the go ahead of the dispersion through his offices and chambers. Updates in three days._

_Day 8: Subject continues to improve..._

 

The list goes on, and on, and Gabriel turns the page quickly, scanning through each. Each one details every meeting they ever had, including the details of her increased tests on him... On how it seemed to be affecting his body, his nanites, in ways she didn't expect, but was pleased with. She also mentions how his continuing discomfort with Morrison was a 'good sign.' Finally, she had begun tampering with his DNA, which is revealed by a carefully replicated chart. There are parts that have been printed out from a machine and even taped into the book, or glued in. There are notes everywhere, most of it gibberish that Gabriel can't understand.

Yet... She continued to refer to him as 24. Why? _Why 24?_

“She done this to twenty-four other guys?” Jay asks abruptly as she looks over at Gabriel, who's eyes are fixated on the page, the numbers. He shakes his head as he stammers.

“I... I have no idea.”

And more importantly- did they survive? Were there _other_ Reaper experiments out there, wandering the world, working for Talon or Moira herself?

Gabriel suddenly reaches for one of the other notebooks, setting the file down. This notebook looks far older and its pages yellow with age. When he opens it, he discovers that it's not one of Moira's notebooks at all, but in fact, it's someone _else's_ book... Someone from before Moira. Someone from...

The Soldier Enhancement Program.

His eyes widen and he carefully peels open the first page.

 

_(24) Reyes, Gabriel._

_Subject received Nov. 18_ _th_ _._

_Prime condition._

_Military volunteer._

_Ready for testing._

 

_Primary Geneticist: I. Nasir._

_C.O: General R. Walcott_

 

Something here was wrong. Wrong, because Gabriel knew he didn't meet Jack in November. They met in late spring... He could remember that clearly, because the tarmac upon which they stood sizzled with the almost-summer heat. Everyone was starting to sweat just a little bit, and not just from the nerves of meeting their new officer. Moreover, his number in SEP had _always_ been 75...

_Hadn't it?_

_Who was I. Nasir?_ Why was was he assigned a specific one? And more importantly, what did they do to him? He recalls that Moira had said they weren't injected with the same thing- none of them were... Did that mean that all of the Soldiers were injected by different Geneticists with different chemicals? Is that why some of them died to the injections, and the symptoms were never _exactly_ the same among them?

Gabriel speeds through the next few pages, until he reaches something of a show stopper.

 

_Hard rejection to the serum. G. Reyes is sedated for intense aggression. After an injection, the subject lost all control and attacked his handlers, killing two assistants and one other Soldier. Subject may be transferred or terminated. Investigation still ongoing._

 

… Had Gabriel killed someone? _Three_ someones!? During SEP? How did he _not_ remember this-

Wait...

_Wait a minute._

Gabriel's eyes twist towards Ana, as she's looking at the tube he handed her... His eyes shift back to the book, and Jay's hand rests gently on his shoulder as he begins to realize. She can see the panic in Gabriel's eyes as he realizes...

This is all from SEP. They had reset him, then and there, with _that_ chemical. They had _wiped_ his memory of this traumatic event, no differently than Moira had been trying to do with Rabbits... Moira had clearly been trying to replicate Nasir's work, and had eventually succeeded in doing so. He looks back down, reading further.

 

_Subject has been reset. New enrollment date: June 28_ _th_ _._

_Status: Induced Coma, recovery state._

 

_Notes: I.Nasir has been discharged for unlawful use of genetic manipulation as according to SEP protocol. She injected 24 with the cognitive wipe hours prior to her discharge. SEP Official has assumed all of her medical assets and records, though some of them are omitted, presumably burned as incriminating evidence, including what she has injected him with, preventing any kind of reversal. The SEP has managed to stabilize the Soldier in hopes to recover him,but Medical staff warns of future outbursts. Heavy surveillance advised._

 

Gabriel tries to make sense of everything he's just read, passing the notebook off to Ana to read. Someone had injected him with something illegal, causing him to kill three people. Then, they had wiped his mind as an attempt to cover their tracks, but were found out anyway. His memories from his first actual several weeks in SEP had been _erased_ , and then they had simply waited for him to recover, then put him back in, like new, where he met Katie and Jack... And no one had ever _told_ him... Then, Moira had somehow gotten ahold of Nasir's work, or... Or _something_ , and worked tirelessly to replicate it... And she managed to not only replicate the memory-serum, but also, the obedience potion that Talon relied on so intensively for their operatives.

 

And now, they had hard proof of it... Or at least, physical proof of the research that went into it, and how he was manipulated and changed into _Reaper_. But... This was writing. Whoever defended Moira could easily argue that any of this paperwork could have been written by _anyone_. That it could have been easily staged.

… They would _need_ Widowmaker's blood to prove that Talon was still using it, and that Moira was, in fact, working for Talon. The notebooks gave away her intentions easily enough, as she detailed how Reyes' behavior seemed to be changing, and how he had constantly denoted a slightly more resenting tone when referring to or in the presence of Jack. She had always stated this like it was a positive development, and never a bad one, which an actual physician would have.

Continuing on, Gabriel flips through another of Moira's notebooks until he finds something of interest: The arrival of Reaper to Talon. This was a surprise to them, just as Edaly had stated.

 

_I did not expect Reyes to survive the blast, and we all saw him get buried. To this moment it still eludes me how it is that he's standing here now virtually in our doorway, demanding answers, demanding vengeance. We had thought that we had lost him, truly... And though he's here, I'm not so sure we haven't. Gabriel doesn't seem to be himself, at least, not like he was in Blackwatch._

 

_Further analysis: Something has happened to Gabriel between the last time I saw him and now. His nanites are more alive, more active than I have ever seen them in as long as I have been studying him. He seems to have a need now to feed in order to heal, which was very much not the case before. I am afraid somehow that his death- if that is actually what happened- has corrupted his natural healing abilities into something more... Demanding. I can't be sure, but it seems to me now that his nanites are alive, almost like they have gained some sense of consciousness, because the shadows there are now even when Gabriel sleeps, and when he wakes, they never quite go away. On that topic, he hardly seems to sleep at all- I've yet to witness him actually sleep, or even tire... However, during the recent missions that Talon has sent him on, I have observed him acting almost like an animal would, ghosting over the bodies of the fallen and taking from them like some kind of... Banshee. He seems to inhale from them, and leaves their bodies completely eviscerated of all natural nutrient: presumably, the nanites are taking from the bodies what Gabriel's body can no longer provide for itself... This is why he needs to feed._

 

Of course, Gabriel knew it wasn't just the death that had done this to him... No, Angela had done something too. Her healing abilities seemed to have kept him alive just enough for his heart to still beat, leaving him in some kind of strange limbo, a detail that Moira still didn't know.

 

_It's true that we couldn't have expected him to show up here, but something between the alcohol we were giving him and the rage he must have felt at the end must have given the nanites something to latch onto. This new being calls himself Reaper, and if he knows he is Gabriel Reyes, I have no idea. I intend to make sure those memories do not come back, at all. This is a tool that Talon cannot pass up on, especially not when it walks so willingly through our threshold into our hands. I think, with the research I have done on Lacroix, we can replicate the memory suppression and obedience in a way that will be most beneficial to our cause._

 

_Victory through self improvement... Improvement through science._

 

That last part, Gabriel knew to be directly conflicting with what Akande believed. Akande wanted war, because he believed that conflict would improve the human race... Moira believed differently, or perhaps she simply wanted a place to safely continue experimenting without prying eyes on her... And Talon was no better place: a remorseless organization full of outcasts with no futures who would never be missed or looked for by anyone, expendable soldiers that could easily be replaced if something went wrong...

 

… Gabriel realized he could use this to his advantage. What if Akande learned about Moira's true intentions, in the way that she was using Talon? It occurs to him that Talon knew he was Gabriel and had always known, but only certain Operatives had been kept in the dark about his history- among them, Widowmaker and Doomfist. Why? Why wouldn't the council have mentioned it? Even in passing?

 

 _The council didn't trust Akande, and hadn't for a while. That was probably why it had taken him so long to get out of prison. And to Widowmaker? It was useless information she didn't care about nor need to do her job efficiently_.

 

It was all so simple to see how, how little the organization trusted itself... It would be easily to crumble if done correctly. But Gabriel didn't have time for that _just_ now. All they needed to do now was prove that Widow's blood was dirtied, and clear his name... Then he could help. He smiled up at Ana.

“It looks like we have it.”

“That it does, Gabriel... I am sure you will want to go through this in detail. It's about you, after all... I'll be turning it all over to Winston when we arrive.”

“Of course. And the chips?”

“The chips... Yes well, I imagine those will take a great deal of time to get through, if they're long. I'll have someone start looking at them when we arrive. You could be with them if you wanted.”

“I would.” Gabe says, eager to see what's on them.

“Me too!” Jay says, almost too eagerly, handing over a jar. Ana laughs and takes them all, leaving Gabriel with the books. He continues to comb through them for the next several hours, and when they finally get back home, he's eating with Katie, (a habit he's gotten into despite not needing to eat) and going over what he's found.

 

“So... So this Nasir guy... Injected you with some unknown, illegal chemical that made you go berserk...”

“She. The documents very clearly said she.” Gabe corrects.

“Ok, so, She-”

“Yes. I guess some people died, and she was discharged. Before she left though, she took my memories with her. They put me in a coma, because my mind was... recovering?” Gabe says it unsurely, because he's not quite sure how it works.

“Sounds about right. I mean, if the chemical was bad enough... She might have fried it. Might have killed you, Gabe.”

“Christ. You don't think _those_ memories will come back, do you?”

“Not likely. Not if they haven't already. The way I see it, Gabe- you said that Moira managed to duplicate the serum, but I don't think she did.”

“What do you mean?”

“If she duplicated it, you wouldn't remember _anything_ would you? She kept having to dose you and Widow with it, with the alcohol, to keep it suppressed, right? Nasir didn't have to do that. She injected you once. You ask me? All Moira did was imitate the results. Besides... Look at her situation. She's getting paid god knows how much to work for Talon, and this is her _one_ job. How best to secure a tenure with them if she can prove that they will constantly need her? If she does it once, and then is done, they can get rid of her... But this way, they can't. They have to keep paying her to keep their operatives working properly. If you ask me, it's by design. It also explains why your memories started coming back as soon as you were off the drug. More funding means more experiments for her, doesn't it? You can't tell me it's not the kind of thing she'd do... Most Talon agents seem to have something in mind that's... You know, personal. Selfish.. Greedy. Er... _No offense._ ”

Gabriel snorts. “ _Thanks, Katie._ ” He shakes his head and sighs. “But no. I think you're right. Besides, you're the one between us with the medical PH. D. I'm sure you know what you're talking about... And it does seem like something she'd do... But what does this mean for me?”

“What do you mean?” Katie asks, mouth half full of food.

“She said that my nanites seemed to be operating on their own, like they had gained some kind of consciousness. What does that make me? An omnic? Am I a machine now?”

To this, Katie suddenly laughs. “Oh, relax, Gabe. You've always been a machine.” She teases, and he nudges her with an elbow.

“I'm serious.”

“Hey, I don't know, alright? I don't know what it means. And... I mean, you seem to have control over them now, don't you?”

“Most of the time.” he murmurs.

“Alright, most of the time. Fine. So what? So what if you are part omnic, Gabe? Who cares?”

“ _I care._ ”

“Why?”

“Because! I- Because...” Because he didn't _want_ to be an omnic. He had fought them for so long, and despite that omnics in general had changed, and that he'd told himself to let go of his hatered of them, there was something about it that put him off. The idea of his nanites taking over him and turning him into some kind of death machine while he slept concerned him.

“ _Gabe_.” Katie interrupts his thoughts. “Look... I know you went through some rough shit. I know that you and Jack and all those guys did. I know you lost a lot of people to omnics... We all did. But... Well. After they washed me out, and I went on, after the crisis, do you know what happened, Gabe?”

“The rebels were more or less helped back into society, given help until they got on their feet- etcetera. Yes, I know, Katie. They were accepted into our society... As part of us. I get it.”

“Yeah... Well. I fell in love with one of those Rebels, Gabe.”

“You what? Katie?”

“Just hear me out, alright? When I got home, no one wanted anything to do with me. It looked like a dishonorable discharge, you know? Like I was some kind of Vet who had gone AWOL or something, like I was just... A criminal. People didn't look at me right... But this guy? This omnic? He did. He understood. He didn't care what I had been through or how other people suggested I was weak, or a coward, or whatever excuses they made up about me. He was gentle and kind, smart and funny. So we got together... Adopted a couple kids, and started our lives together. Omnics aren't terrible people, Gabe. They're not mindless robots, either. They're just like _us_ , trying to make their way in a world that may not ever accept them for being what they are... So if you're part omnic, who cares? It isn't going to change who _you_ are as a person. I think you should stop worrying about your nanites. I think if they were harmful, we would have noticed it before now. We'd have found some kind of sign... All of our best doctors have looked at them, Gabe... They're strange, sure... But they're fine. You're fine. Now go and get some rest, alright? You look like you're going to collapse if you don't get some rest. Worrying yourself sick.” Katie advises, smiling as she moves to stand. Gabriel sighs and then stands as well.

“Thanks, Katie...” Gabe says, this time a touch more genuinely as he softens his smile at her. She smiles back, then wanders off, heading back to her own quarters, and soon, Gabriel is off to do the same, oddly exhausted by everything he's learned.

 

About what happened to him in SEP, and the memories he might never get back... About how Moira was using that to keep herself well funded and keeping Talon agents under control.

 

About the freedom this would mean for him once he was proven as innocent, more or less...

 

… And what it might mean for he and Jack.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Please let me know what you think! And, HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS! KISS 2017 GOODBYE!
> 
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	40. Distrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Heavy battle/gore themes. Some heavy smut. Sub Gabe.

~

 

Gabriel stood in Moira's office, smiling faintly as he looked down at his hands. They were sharp, black, and tipped with pointed, monstrous claws. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He was ready to go off like a live round. He allowed the ability to fade, returning his skin more or less to normal, and the woman spoke up, the dim light of the grey debriefing room they were in gleaming faintly off of her pale skin, her two-toned red and blue eyes. There was no office of course, because this was Switzerland.... Another painful reminder of what else Gabriel had lost. “There's a gift for you, in your quarters, Commander. Something that seemed more fitting than this armor they usually keep you in.” Moira mused, plucking idly at Reyes' chest armor with its few glowing red lights, her long nails more than just someone's bad nightmare. Gabriel's chestnut eyes fell on them, and her hand, as it dared to touch the hood that hung around his neck. A small growl started to sound out of him, until she interrupted it. “Ah, don't worry. I know you like the hood, so I had them put on in for you.”

“What will it do?” Gabriel asked, his voice a grating, hallowed sort of thing, gravelly and very much not his own. At some point during her experiments, this had become normal for him, so much so that he didn't even notice the difference.

“Mmm... I'm afraid it's mostly aesthetic, but it's still armor. Your legs and feet have always been vulnerable, and your current armor leaves your middle entirely unprotected. I've rectified that. And, I know your preference for stealth missions, Commander... This new suit will provide you something... Darker. More suited, along with the typical protection from knives and most gunshots of course.”

“...Very well.” Gabriel replied almost quietly, curling his hands together, testing his strength with the last dose that Moira had just given him. It rolled through his veins like a rush, pure adrenaline aching for some kind of use. A sort of... Bloodlust. “I'll get to it after I've spoken to Morrison.”

“Mmh. Morrison...” Moira replied, chuckling. “Yes, I've seen to your instructions. Everything is in place. You're not going to back out now, are you? I know that you and he were once very close...”

“ _I am not backing out, Moira._ ” Reaper hisses, his voice primal, deep. “ _Morrison has betrayed me. He has taken everything from me. He has used me... He reaps the benefits of everything I have worked for... And I... I will take it back. I will make him regret the day he turned on me._ ”

“... As you wish, Commander.” Moira sounded for a moment, timid... Almost frightened. “...And after?”

“After, we will meet at the ship, as planned. If I don't arrive, leave without me. We will use Blackwatch to undo the 'traitor's attack'.” An easy excuse, really. Terrorism had been increasing in the last few years, and it would come as a surprise to no one if Overwatch became the target of one of them. It was the kind of chaos Reyes needed to take control. “The world will remember why they need us. Why they need _me._ Jack will be gone, and I can have what I deserve. We can do what we should have been doing this entire time... It's only a shame that it comes at such a cost...”

“... Cost, Commander Reyes?” Moira seemed oblivious, as though she didn't consider there to be any downsides at all to their particular plot.

 _Jack's life._ For a moment, it seemed so far away, seeing Jack's eyes gleaming back at him, seeing him bloodied in the middle of battle, watching him train again and again, watching the blond fall only to get up once more. The feel of Jack's lips on his own was a far distant memory, and it was soured by pure rage as Gabriel recalled what had happened. _What Jack had done to him_.

“I gave myself to him, Moira... Every _piece_ of me... And he has taken it for granted. He won't forget me anymore. He won't be able to.” Rage burned every fiber of Gabriel's being as he lifted his hood, putting his eyes in a deep shadow. “The charges are in place. I have the detonator. Get the other Agents out... Find McCree-”

“Agent McCree hasn't been seen in three days, Reyes. You know that.”

“ _He will not be in this facility when the bombs go off!_ ” Reaper snarled venomously.

“... Of course, Commander... Good luck.” The geneticist turned and then strode away. Moira had no intention of risking herself in this plot, let alone looking for McCree. If he died here, good, he had never quite been cooperative with her anyway, nor her experiments. He wasn't part of this plan, regardless how much Reyes had wanted him to be.

Gabriel stalked away down the hall, through the Swiss headquarters up to the command deck where he knew Jack Morrison was waiting for him. Jack had been demanding answers now for weeks... Months, perhaps. Answers for his bizarre behavior, answers for their numerous war crimes that had gone more or less unchecked... Gabe had finally promised him to give the answers he wanted... Lies, of course, but Gabriel didn't care. This was revenge. Revenge for what he had lost, including his trust and love for the blond who he helped get into this position in the first place.

 

When Gabriel arrived, his eyes land on the few who are collected there. Jack stood nearby someone who had taken Ana's place since the sniper was lost on a mission some time ago, and Gerard, before her... God knew where Liao was. So many had been lost, and Ana... Ana had been abandoned, or so Gabe felt. It was an argument they had never quite finished. Gabriel didn't care about that now. His primary target was standing there in his flawless blue overcoat, perfect hair, visor, crystalline blue eyes... _Traitor._

The command deck wasn't as busy as it often was, as today was a day just like any other, and people had things to tend to, places to be, training to finish, which conveniently left Jack here alone with only the other people of sufficiently high rank. Overhead, lights from embedded ports gleamed a soft yellow and white, lighting up desks while leaving screens dark for better viewing, and around the sides of the room, two massive domed windows let in as much of the evening sunlight as they could, pouring in through hexagonal facets in small ribbons of gold that fell across Jack's face perfectly.

 

Their eyes met after what felt like an eternity, and Gabriel moved forward, not bothering to drop his hood as he approached. The sun cut in through the hood for a moment, causing his pupils to turn to pinpricks in the onslaught of the coming sunset. He cleared his voice, returning it as much to normal as he could, though it was a struggle for him.

“You wanted to speak to me, Strike Commander?” He asked, voice emotionless and cold.

“Yes, I've been expecting you, Reyes.” Jack said finally, seeming to assess the way Gabriel presented himself, the way he spoke... A pang of sadness ran through him, but it was too much now to repair, and so he was forced not to address it. He gave a small wave of his hand, gesturing at the other ranking officers with them, and raising his voice only marginally to catch their attention. “Leave us.” he says to everyone else in the room, and though some of them give strange looks, everyone leaves. Gabriel had been under investigation for some time now, and the world was ready to shut him down. He was no longer welcome here, and that much was obvious, as those who left gave him sharp glares as they did. Jack ignored this, and tried to play it lightly, hoping that maybe he could smooth the tensions between them with a lighter tone. “Haven't seen you in a while, Reyes... Everything alright?”

“Just peachy, Jack. Get on with it. We know why you called me here.” Reaper cut in, not caring about pleasantries, or whatever else it was that the blond was trying to achieve here.

“Fine.,” Jack says, sounding rough and marginally wounded. “The UN has left me no choices, Gabriel. They want to question you, personally. They intend to put you trial for war crimes... They have proof, Gabe. You're going to go to prison. They'll discharge you. They've reached the end of the investigat-”

“...Did you bring me here just to tell me this?” Reyes cut him off, eyes rolling for just a second as his voice threatened to slip.

“You _knew? Gabriel!_ I'm trying to help you! I'm trying to-”

“To _what_ , Jack? Be the _hero_ again? Save me like you _did before?_ I'm not running, Jack. I don't care what they do to me. Not anymore... Besides...” The weight in Gabriel's coat pocket grew heavy. Absently he reached down, his fingers sliding over the device as he casually shrugged, offering a small, dark smile. “They'll remember why they need me soon enough.”

 

Jack's brows furrowed and he stared darkly at Gabriel, trying to make sense of what he was saying. There was a charismatic amusement to Gabe's tone that was... Unhealthy. No one should be as calm, as happy as he was for what he was going through. Did Reyes really not understand what was coming for him? What was going to happen? Somehow, Jack doubted it. Gabriel had always been one of the most strategic, insightful men he had known. He had looked up to him for so long, and even now, when they were squaring off against each other, he doubted that Gabriel _didn't_ know what he was doing. Which meant that Reyes was doing _something._

“What are you-”

 

_Click._

A high pitched beep sounded from inside Gabe's coat pocket, causing Jack to wince with the pitch, flinching as his nerves suddenly jerked in response... Seconds later, the entire left wing of the base erupted in a massive explosion that shudders the ground of the building their in, causing them both to stagger briefly. The debris screamed through the air, tearing a gaping hole into the chamber where he and Jack stood, breaking one of those massive windows and throwing aside holo-screens and expensive tech, destroying everything it collided with as red hot metal scorched into the room, filling it with an acrid, burning scent of ruined rubber. Shards of glass glittered down in a rain of deadly gems as it fell over them, leaving a shattered, broken hole through which the sun poured, landing on Jack and leaving the Reaper in shadow. Gabe's eyes are locked on Jack's as the two stare at one another. There was a madness in the dark man's eyes that Jack had never seen before.

“ _Gabe... Why?_ ” Jack gasps quietly, before another blast wave throws him to the ground. A cruel smile curled across Gabriel's face, malicious and dark, barely seen beneath the concealing shade of his hood, but no words utter from his lips.

Another blast shook through the facility as the right wing, including the medbay, went up in a giant ball of fire and destruction. Gabriel didn't intend to flee. The nanites would protect him as they always had, and he would survive. He wanted to watch Jack die. He wanted to _see_ it happen. Jack stared up at him, tears starting to burn in his eyes as realization began to dawn on him. “Gabriel!” Jack stammered, crawling backwards as Gabe stalked forward, the sound of his boots on the metal flooring between them somehow more ominous than the threatening crack of broken infrastructure. There it was again, that charismatic, confident attitude, reflected in Reyes' every move. There was a darkness that _fumed_ off of Gabriel in a way that the blond had never seen, as if he was possessed.

 

Gabriel is gone... And in his place, a monster stands, taken over...

 

Jack was looking into the face of death.

 

~

 

Gabriel wakes in his quarters with a scream, hands clutching his head, fumes pouring off of every inch of him, cheeks already damp with tears, his breath caught in his throat as he struggles to recover himself.

“Whoa! Hey!... Gabe. Hey... Calm down...” A familiar, welcome voice sounds from beside him, a reminder of the present. Jack sits up beside the man, the blankets sliding down off of him, exposing his body to the somewhat cold air. Gabriel is covered in a cold sweat, his body throbbing, pulse heavy in his veins. “It was just a dream, babe. Take a few deep breaths...” The Soldier soothes, sliding a hand over his back, warm and gentle.

“It... It wasn't a dream, Jack,” Gabe whispers. The warm hand smooths up and across his shoulders, faintly massaging. The wraith looks over, for the first time really noticing the scar that divides Jack's face. It wasn't there in the memory, and he can't help but feel like he knows how it gets there, and he's terrified to see how. Jack seems to know without asking what it was that the man saw in his memory, or at the very least, he seems able to guess. He doesn't ask him to relate- he was there, after all, and none of it was pleasant. As far as he was concerned, none of it mattered now.

“It was in the past, anyway. We've moved on from that... Come on. Lets go get a drink and something to eat... Maybe take a quick shower first, yeah? Would you like that?” The Soldier croons, leaning in and pressing his nose close to Gabriel's jawline, lips ghosting across his flesh.

“Don't tease me, Morrison. You know that I like the heat.” Gabe says as he starts to relax, sagging into the bed, and into the man's touch somewhat. Jack chuckles softly.

“ _Oh, I know_.” He murmurs in response suggestively, both hands moving over onto Gabriel now, more possessive than before. Lips graze Gabriel's neck, followed by a small nip that makes Reaper growl with desire and need. It's easy for them to get distracted from everything that's going on and give in to a lust that they both still have.

 

In the last few days since Gabriel's been home, the base has been a flurry of commotion. No one's looking forward to the new year- because with it, comes the promise Talon has made to destroy another city. No one has found Jinx- not even Sombra, who was the most likely among them to find him. It's like he had vanished, she said, completely erased from the earth somehow. No government has reported any luck in finding him either. However... A distraction had been made, a clever plan... It was to postpone the attack, only, and everyone knew it wouldn't last forever, but for now, they had hopes. Those who had manufactured the parts from which Jinx had been made had made a duplicate- a man that looked physically _exactly_ like the hacker... But internally, it was little more than a remote-controlled robot, being operated by very clever impersonators and a team of investigators. This faux-Jinx had been handed over four days after the threat, and thus far, no one in Talon had said anything... But it was clear that they did not trust him. The Trojan horse, as the prop was acting as, had been blindfolded and imprisoned within Talon from the moment it arrived. It was clear that Talon didn't trust them to give him over so easily, but they couldn't yet find proof that he _wasn't_ the real one, either.

Additionally, all of the evidence Gabriel had found had been handed over once he was done with it. Copies were being made of everything to make sure nothing happened to it. The memchips they had recovered had been so numerous and so many that at some point, Gabriel had stopped watching them, and left them to other eyes to preen through while he rested. So far, all they had turned up were clips of Moira's rodent testing- hundreds of them- and a clip of Reyes laying on one of her lab tables, smoke ghosting off of his very skin. And after that, all traces of him vanished... The evidence against Moira was... Incredible. There was even some indication that she may have tested on _other_ people. Children, even! She had recorded so much. Overwatch's scientists had taken the chemical found in the small bottle and had begun analyzing it, piecing it together finding the links between the memory suppression chemical and Widowmaker's missing memories, along with the Obedience substance... Widow's blood ought to have both. Gabriel's blood would have had both at once too, and did, according to Moira's notebooks, once upon a time. The markers were all there, and now, they were looking for the same traces in Lacroix's own make up... But that could take a lot of time. DNA forensics weren't exactly easy, even in this day and age. The investigation the UN would have to do might take even longer, Gabriel knew.

 

Gabriel's hands clutch the sheets tightly on either side of his shoulders, claws tearing into the fabric, a pillow muffling his sounds as Jack gets into him, and Jack relishes the way black pollution dances up off of Reaper's skin and against him. There's a heat between them that Gabriel adores, and he knows immediately that this is what Jack had meant about knowing what he liked. It's been years since anyone has had him- or rather, since _Jack_ has had him. He'd never submitted to anyone else, and now, the Soldier was into him again, making him blush darkly against the pillow his face is half buried into. Strong, callused hands hold him in place, one tangled at the hair on the back of Gabe's head, the other tightly clasped onto Gabe's hip. Fangs tear small holes into the pillow, biting down as he had advised Jack to do so many years ago, trying to keep himself quiet. He doesn't want the rest of the base to know about this, specifically. Sure, everyone knew they were back together, but if anyone knew that _Reaper_ was _taking it_... The idea made Gabriel flush even more darkly and growl almost aggressively into the pillow, as though doing so might retain some trace of his dominance. He hears Jack laugh behind him, a thin sheen of sweat covering the soldier.

“ _Don't worry, Gabe. I'm not going to tell anyone._ ” The man purred, leaning forward over Gabriel to whisper into his ear. “ _Don't be ashamed... It isn't like you have some kind of BDSM kink._ ”

_.. Fuck._

All of Gabriel's thoughts trail off.

Jack laughs, grunting hotly as he rolls forward again, grinding against him in just the way to make the man gasp, releasing his old on the pillow to murmur incoherently into the air. Jack knows that Gabriel likes this- being held down like this, even if he's too proud to admit it openly. The Soldier begins to slow, causing Reaper to growl venomously back at him, eyes bright red and hungry. “ _I didn't say to fucking stop,_ ” he snarls, trying to keep his controlling nature up, even now, but Jack isn't buying the facade. Still... Jack gives in, wanting to hear Reaper whine again as he redoubles his efforts.

And whine he does, in that almost feral, bestial way, claws tugging back into the sheets, his two extra arms falling back, clutching, clawing against Jack's bare chest, urging him on. Finally, the grip on his hair pulls tightly, jerking him upright so that the Soldier's chest presses up against his spine, hips rotating into him, making Gabriel groan loudly into the open air of the bedroom. Thick arms come around him, tease over his chest and one of the two slips up to his throat, clutching at it just enough to make breathing a strain. Jack knows to squeeze just enough to make Gabriel shudder in his grasp. They both know that Reaper could get out of the hold easily, but he makes no attempt to do so. Instead, he remains, barely trying to contest the hold, pleasured by what's being done to him. _He can't get enough of it._ Gabriel's hands drop back to the man's thighs, and the other two ghost back, gripping onto Jack's head and hair as teeth find Gabe's neck again, once more, leaving yet another dark, lingering hickey. Jack seems to adore marking him- claiming him somehow, and Gabriel doesn't mind being possessed once again. Frantic breath swells their chests as they both draw nearer and nearer to their peak and lips whisper small curses into the air, rasped hisses of need and demands for more, all of which Jack delivers roughly, relentlessly until Gabriel can't take anymore.

The Soldier's other hand reaches up, covering Gabe's mouth as he finishes hard, and loudly, trying to uphold the man's anonymity as much as he can, but the shade's body quivers and shudders around him as he finishes. The scent of gunpowder and smoke drifts even further into Jack's lungs as he inhales the man.

“ _Fuck... Fuck- Jackie... Don't stop_.” Gabriel begs as the hand comes away from his mouth, clutching his bare chest instead, his thighs trembling as he's held upright, riding out the last of his climax as the Soldier urges onward for his. After a moment, Jack releases Gabriel, letting him fall forward so that he can fall lean over him, using gravity to drop himself into Gabe as deeply as he can go, letting the Reaper hear each of his small grunts, his breathless moans as he releases into him. Eventually, his body goes taut and Gabe can feel every powerful muscle along Soldier's torso tighten up as he finishes. There is a throb, a jerking twitch deep within, and soon, the warmth that follows, making Gabriel feel oddly accomplished, satisfied in the most intimate of ways. After the moment of intense pleasure, the strength leaves the man above him, and Jack collapses onto him, chuckling, kissing along Gabe's shoulders, spent and satisfied.

“Fuck... I love you, Gabe.” Jack pants against him, grinding in a few more times before finally drawing himself up and out. Gabriel murmurs an exhausted reply, ready to go back to sleep.

“Love you... too...” he utters, starting to drift off... But Jack's laughter breaks through to him.

“Come on, you can't sleep now... We've got work to do...”

“ _Do we?_ ” Reaper rumbles in an exhausted tone, and Jack laughs again.

“Come on. I'll clean you up and get you a coffee.”

“... Fine. Shower first.” The wraith demands, and Jack rolls away with a smirk, helping Gabriel up and coaxing him into the bathroom- though Reaper finds it a struggle to stand, and resorts to simply wraithing there instead.

 

An hour later, the two of them are sitting in the cafeteria, eating, when a sudden alarm rings out over the base.

 

It's just as horrifying as the first time they heard it, less than a week ago. Another attack. Already, they know without question where they need to be, sprinting down the hallways and through the corridors, heading upward until they reach the command deck, Gabriel skipping steps as legs evaporate only to reform twenty feet later, speeding him enough for him to keep up with the quick-footed man. Breakfast is ignored and abandoned as the two Soldiers rush to the command deck, where Winston and Ana are already standing.

“Where is it?” Jack asks at once, panting as they come to a stop.

“Barcelona.” Winston says, his eyes wide, voice twinged with awestruck fear.

“They discovered the decoy, somehow...” Ana deduces as a camera pans in, landing primarily on a broken figure- the decoy in question, with its head completely caved in, its limbs removed. Three Talon ships circle the city- one building is already down. The attack has _just_ started, and already smoke rises in a high black and brown stack from the first attack. All of them stare in hideous wonder as everyone seems to ask the same questions to themselves. _What do we do now?_

 

“We need to go, now!” Jack utters urgently beside them, his heroic course of action is already decided, and his tone suggests that no one's going to stop him. “Barcelona isn't far from here-”

“Deploying is not part of the plan!” Winston barks, “We need to think about this!” But Jack rebukes quickly, before an argument can form.

“What is there to think about, Winston? If we don't go now, hundreds of people will _die,_ and hundreds may already die before we get there! We have to move! With our fastest ships, we can get there in minutes. We have no choice. We _have_ to go. If we don't, Talon wins. We stop this now!” Jack demands, turning away and rushing out of the room, headed towards the armory to gear up and head out, not waiting for a yes or no. Gabriel is torn, looking between Ana and Winston, before suddenly shrugging _characteristically_ and fleeing after Jack.

“...Winston my friend... I hate to say so, but Jack is right. We have no choice. We have to go now.” Ana replies finally, and the Gorilla nods, seeming to take the lack of his command with relative ease. After all, he was a scientist, first and foremost. Ana moves away quickly as well, and soon, the Commander's voice is heard over the comms, advising all available Operatives to the ships with brief instructions.

For the first time in a long time, Overwatch is deploying. _All of them._

Jack, Gabriel, Ana and Jesse end up on the same ship. Jaelen, Genji and Angela take another. Jesse is late, along with Zarya, and Lucio and D. Va, who were off sight, are signaled. It will take them over an hour to arrive.

 

Fifteen minutes feels like an eternity when Gabriel and Jack watch the slow destruction of Barcelona on holo-screens inside the cabin of the ship, a short flight over the Mediterranean Sea from the Dolomites. Thirty minutes, and finally, the city is in sight. Already, smoke raises in tall black piles over the city, clouding it almost into darkness. The skyline it was known for is already missing a few predominant buildings. Spanish military is already deeply engaged in battle with Talon warships... Warships, not like the stealthy dropships they so often used. These were equipped with oversized pulse rifles large enough to destroy whole trucks with a single shot, missiles for slightly _bigger_ targets... Like government airships. The Soldiers are on their feet, preparing themselves to go. Reaper idly clicks his claws over the mechanics of one of his shotguns, checking it over as he fidgets, eager for battle.

“Gabriel.” Jack says as the ship descends, putting on his visor and clipping it into place. The light within turns on, hiding his eyes. “You have to stay here.”

“ _WHAT?_ ” Reaper suddenly snarls, glaring his way, red fury in his eyes.

“We _need_ you here! The world can't... They can't see you yet, Gabriel. They'll _kill_ you! They won't know the difference! They'll see you, they'll see Talon-”

“He's right, Gabriel.” Ana interrupts, trying to back Jack up.

“You've _got_ to be kidding me!” The reaper snaps. “You will _need_ me down there! People _need_ me!” He almost begs. There's a tone of desperation in Reaper's voice that Jack has never heard, and Gabriel searches the visor pleadingly before looking to Ana.

“Not yet, Gabriel. Please... Please trust me. You need to stay quiet. Stay here.” Jack says firmly.

 

Gabriel staggers back, his body half formed as he struggles to keep himself still. He wants to help- needs to help, but watching Jack jump into a warzone was now what he was being forced to do. He wants to scream.

Jack leaves the ship with Ana, and Gabriel watches them go out of a tall, bulletproof glass window on the side of the ship, leaving him alone in the ship with no one but pilots and a couple medical staff and no one else. The scene fills him with dread. The sound of explosions sends memories of the Omnic crisis careening through his head like live rounds. The fall of buildings, the dust in the air... It looks just like the midwest all over again. It puts terror in Gabriel in a way that he's ashamed to admit, even though no one would judge him for it. The plane he's on enters stealth and retakes to the air the second that the door has shut behind the two old soldiers. A Talon warship slowly comes into view overhead. Its lights are bright red and cut through almost everything in their path except for solid steel, making the smoke almost seem like it isn't there except when it moves along. Six rockets suddenly erupt from its lower side, pummeling into the broad side of a building, devistating its integrity as it begins to fall. On the ground, Gabriel can see Spanish soldiers going head to head with Talon grunts, gunfire between them like a shower of live magma, hailing back and forth at one another ceaselessly, the occasional fall of a body... An intermittent speedbump. Where as Spanish soldiers will recoil and try to recover their wounded, Talon soldiers are more relentless, entirely walking over, even trampling on their wounded, fallen brethren like little more than an obstacle in the way. It's clear to see how their training was varied so differently to that of _normal_ human beings. Perhaps that was why Widow had always felt so stunned and surprised by Reaper's altruistic, risky methods used to save her life... Would she have ever done the same for him? Somehow, he doubted it.

It was about then that he finally heard the tell-tale sound-wave made by her powerful rifle as the echo bounced off of the walls of the city, up into the warzone. It takes him a minute, but eventually, he spots the trail of bodies that give her away. The Widowmaker is high in a building, given some cover by a window that she shoots from. Her visor is on, all sensors glowing as she takes shot after shot, raining down death upon the soldiers below. She is like a machine, working tirelessly, efficiently to her task. When she finally moves from her position, her grapple is out, and she swings away from the building seconds before Talon finishes it, and it begins to crumble.

Across the city, a warship finally goes down, exploding from the sky and sinking downward, streaming ribbons of bright red against the sky as it cuts through clouds of smoke on its way to the ground in a horrific light show of black and red. Gabriel finally discovers the source of its downfall- one of Overwatch's other ships behind it, guns still hot from the assault. The second that Widowmaker finds a new perch, her onslaught continues, the wicked chorus of shot after shot giving her away.

Then, a new sound erupts from the battlefield, but it's one that Gabriel has heard before. It's something akin to a small sonic boom, and the crack of stone and fractured metal immediately afterwards tells him more than he needs to know. Despite that Gabriel can't quite see him yet... Doomfist is here. The sound erupts again, and once more, and again until a building off to the right of Gabe's line of sight starts to sag on one side, dust pluming upwards from the corner of its base, and a deep, threatening crack works its way up and around the side of the building, glass shattering and raining down on the streets as it ascends. Civilians have been evacuated as much as possible, but the attack had been so quick to start, that few had gotten out. Even now, Gabriel can see people running, fleeing randomly in all directions, looking for any kind of shelter, some of them being herded away from the battle by Spanish military forces on the ground, protecting them with standard weapons and armor.

It starts to wear on Gabriel. The sound of the guns, the booming of explosions, collapsing buildings, screaming people... He feels his stomach lurch uncertainly, and light blooms through his eyes as another horrific fireball goes up on the left. People flee away from it like insects scattering from a predator, and from here, he can make out some of the faces.

 

Among them, is Jack, with his signature visor activated, a gleaming red light amidst fire and smoke.

 

He's not running out, but in. He's headlong into a dead sprint towards what appears to be a fallen citizen, and as he moves, Gabe sees a massive shadow come over him.

 

The building beside him is destroyed, and pieces of it are now scorching down in massive pieces, trembling the ground as pieces plummet to the earth.

Jack is right in the way of it- right in the way of two large sheets of concrete and molten metal that hail down like the promise of death upon him. Gabriel feels everything slow.

 

_No._

 

_No. No..._

 

Jack is struck by the first piece of debris, which causes him to go down before he even manages to reach the citizen he had hoped to save- they are killed instantly when a boulder-sized piece of debris flattens them. Jack's leg is pinned, trapped beneath a wedge of a section of wall, obviously broken in multiple places. Though Gabriel can't hear it from here, he knows the man's scream, as he's heard it before. The memories of battle from the past tear into his mind, drawing up visions behind his watering eyes.

 

~

 

“What are you doing, Gabriel!?” Jack shouted from the floor nearby as he managed to pick himself up, staring at the man holding the detonator, the man- the monster, who had replaced his lover. “Why are you doing this!?”

Jack was already bleeding, and it was clear by the way that he'd fallen, he wasn't getting up again- he was hurt, badly, and the command center was crumbling around them. Gabriel couldn't see anything beyond the red in his eyes, the hate, the rage that consumed him. There was a small smile on his lips... And soon, a familiar song rolled out past his dark lips like some kind of death sentence.

 

“ _Pain, without love... Pain... I can't get... Enough... Mmhmm, mmm... I'd rather feel pain, rather feel pain than nothing at all... Nothing at all...”_

 

His voice was wrong. It wasn't him. It was that creature... That Reaper. The one Jack had seen hints of in the past, now, here and in the flesh. Gabriel was going to die with him, Gabriel- no- this _thing_ was going to kill them all.

 

Tears filled Jack's eyes.

 

“Gabriel! Please!” The man begged. “Stop, stop and look around you! Look at what's happening! Look at everything we built together! Look at everything we've done! Gabriel! Look at who we are, what we did, what we've been through! Don't throw that away!” The man screamed. In this light, it was easier for Reaper to see the white tone that had worked its way into the blond's hairline more and more over the last few years. He struggled to remember what Jack looked like before it. Reaper didn't reply, but Jack continued. If he was going to die... And Gabriel was going to do it, and die there with him, the Soldier wanted him to know. _He wanted him to know how he really felt._

 

“Gabe... Gabriel, I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_ , Gabriel. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted this _place_! I never wanted this _world_. I never wanted this job, this responsibility. I only...” He stammered as pain threatened to overtake him. “I only ever wanted you, Gabe. I wanted to do whatever you wanted to do. I wanted to be wherever you were. I didn't want to _ever_ leave your side, I wanted... I didn't want the war, Gabe... But if you wanted to fight in it, I was going to fight by your side. I was going to _die_ by your side. I love you, and I, I was going to be there when we took our last breaths, and if we lived...

 

 

If we lived, Gabriel... I was going to _marry_ you.

 

 

That was all I ever wa-”

 

 

Too late. Flying debris had caught up to them, and suddenly, a piece of sharp metal swung down from the infrastructure, cutting a massive, deep set of cuts through Jack's face- a long, diagonal set that would eventually make the scar he would wear for the rest of his life. No more words uttered from his parted lips, and the wound bled horribly in a red curtain down over his features. Gabriel could see white where the metal had opened the man's flesh all the way to the bone.

 

Time stopped for the Reaper.

 

Horror suddenly gripped Gabriel. Horror, and sadness... Hate, not for Jack, not for Overwatch, but for what he had become. For what he had done, for what he had thrown away. For a very brief moment, Reaper is lost in a wave of emotion as Gabriel resurfaced in a moment of clarity. Everything felt so slow, and quiet, as if god himself was giving Gabe time to reflect on the horrible mistake he had made, and everything he had caused. Jack is going to die here, and Gabriel will be the one who killed him. The words settled in his mind like a stabbing pain. The man he loves was dying, and there was nothing he could do...

 

But... there was. There was one thing he could do.

 

The last blast was seconds away.

 

Gabriel closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think to, rushing forward and throwing himself over Jack's body, pulling him into his arms and shielding him, drawing them both under a pair of stacked walls that had crumbled together, creating a triangular refuge beneath them that looked sturdy enough to survive. Gabriel used his body as a blockade against whatever might hurt the unconscious Soldier in his arms. His Soldier. _His Jack._

 

But then the blast hit... And everything for Gabriel went dark as his body was thrown away from Jack, irreparably broken in so many places that he knew beyond any doubt that he would not survive.

 

“ _Forgive me,_ ” He whispered into the black abyss that lured him in.

 

Fractions of a second later, Gabriel lost consciousness.

 

_~_

 

_Gabriel had saved Jack's life._

 

Jack didn't know it, because he couldn't have possibly remembered that, and the last memory the Soldier had of the time was staring into Reaper's eyes, confessing everything in a last ditch effort to try and stop him. To try and save what they had. Jack had wanted to _marry_ him...

 

The words in the memory cause the tears in Gabriel's eyes to form fully and fall down either cheek. He's staring out of the window of a ship where everyone has told him to stay to keep himself hidden. Jack is injured, and it's impossible that he's going to escape in time from the hail of metal and stone that looms overhead.

 

And Gabriel's going to watch him die. Again.

 

Again.

 

 

_No._

 

 

_Not this time._

 

 

Something screams in his head, telling him to remember his training, to remember protocol, to remember his orders and everything that is at stake if he dares...

 

But it doesn't matter. None of that matters anymore.

 

In an instant, Gabriel's smoke has consumed him, obeying him, swarming up and over him and enveloping him and sucking him down forcefully into the floor of the ship, then away from it and through the very sky and ground faster than he has ever moved before.

 

When he emerges once more, he erupts from the earth in a billowing blask of black, red and purple smoke, exploding into corporeality.

He's at Jack's side, in public, in full view of enemies, media cameras, allies... The world. Everyone can see him... And everyone does.

 

Everyone watches as Gabriel- no, as _Reaper,_ draws out not one, or two, but four shotguns, double sets of arms forming on his back _through_ his suppression gear, materializing above and around it. He suddenly aims all four of them straight up and unloads with full strength into the threatening concrete, hoping to do just enough damage to redirect it's fall. He lands his shots with enough force to crack it and scatter it into larger pieces that hail around them, narrowly missing the pair. Then the guns are dropped and abandoned and he wheels, turning down onto Jack and covering him entirely with his smoke, and pulling himself close, beneath the rubble that traps Jack's leg. But then, like a rain cloud overtaking sunlight, Gabriel pulls Jack into himself, shielding him and consuming him in his own darkness, swallowing him up into the void of his protection. The two sink into the earth and are gone, completely vanished from the scene without any trace beyond the four guns themselves, which soon after fade entirely out of existence.

 

Everyone seems to watch in shocked, stunned silence.

 

 

From her perch atop another building, Amelie's eyes are wide, horrified and enraged. What had she just seen? Was it possible? Could it have actually been him? _Beyond any doubt_ it had been him. She had seen him, and knew instantly who it was _._ Not an impostor, not some kind of replacement... But Reaper himself. He was there- he was _right_ there... And he had rescued him- the Soldier, Jack Morrison, the man that she now knew he had been involved with in the past. He was there... With Seventy-Six, with Overwatch.

_Reaper was there. With Overwatch._

 

Suddenly, all of the questions in her mind are answered with a sudden, grim truth. Reality and clarity grip Widowmaker with such strength that she feels almost ill. Sombra was on their side... She had been for years. She had been a traitor all along. She wanted information about Reaper... Why? She had wanted him back. She had been sent there to lure Reaper away... Back to Overwatch.

Reaper had not saved her from the collapsed building, the balcony where she had almost died... Because he was already planning on leaving. He _wanted_ her to die. He wanted her to die, because without her in Talon, he had no reason to be there, and could otherwise pursue his _other desires_ back in Overwatch. So he could go back to his pretty-faced, stone-voiced _boyfriend_. And he had left, and he'd gone with them, hidden himself entirely from her, from all of them, for months. He had _disappeared_ from Talon. He had _abandoned_ her to them... It was as Talon had always, always said. Amélie had no friends, no family. Talon was her home. Talon had rescued her. Reaper?

 

Reaper was just a tool they had used, and he had used them too. Now that he was done with them, he had moved on.

 

How had Overwatch known about, and then stopped, Talon's video that was meant to be sent to Lumerico for funding?

 

_Reaper._

 

How had Overwatch known where so many of the Talon bases were, and how to best navigate them, even while Sombra wasn't with them?

 

_Reaper._

 

How had Jinx suddenly gone missing from one of their bases without a trace, or without any sign of a struggle?

 

_Reaper._

 

How was it that the memory of the hallucinations of Reaper had all faded except for _one_ , when he was standing there in her bathroom, watching her, that look deep in the pits of his mask, the strange way he carried himself...

 

He had been there. Reaper had been there. He had come back to see her.

 

Hell, he had probably been sent there to kill her, but somehow, for some reason, he didn't.

 

Yet, he had betrayed her all the same. He had betrayed all of them.

 

Akande is screaming into Widowmaker's headset now.

“ _Did you see that! Did you see him! It was him! HAH! I knew that bastard was still alive. I knew- somehow. I knew! Fine! Let the traitor die with his friends. He has chosen his side. We will kill him with the rest. Find him, Widowmaker, and let's finish up here._ ”

 

Amélie says nothing, but the rage that pools in her blood tells her that there is nothing she wants to do more than kill Reaper.

 

 

Jack and Gabriel arrive back on the ship, a coughing, hacking mess. Gabriel's starving, as is to be expected, and black pile pours out from beneath his mask in thin strands as he draws away, off of Jack, who is immediately rushed by two of the staff still aboard the ship. The comms are screaming in their ears- it's Ana and Reinhardt.

“ _What's happening! What's going on!? Gabriel? Did- was that you? I thought I saw..._ ”

“ _People are screaming- They're saying his name._ ” Reinhardt cuts in. “ _I thought he was not suppose to leave the ship!_ ”

“ _He wasn't but-_ ”

“Jack was going to die.” Gabriel coughs roughly into his own device. “He was going to die- I saw it. I...” Reaper wheezes, reaching up and tearing his mask away. His skin is so pale that it's almost translucent over his flesh, and his entire lower jaw and neck are painted with black goop that surges from internal injuries thanks to the maneuver. “I had no choice.” Reaper chokes. “I couldn't watch him die... No one else could have gotten to him...” He gasps, throwing the small comm device aside as he wrenches it from his ear. He has no interest in hearing everyone else try to tell him why it was a bad idea, and it skitters to a stop with the audible tink of metal on metal. Jack was alive now- injured, but alive, and his blue eyes are primed on Gabriel as they look at each other from across the floor. Jack's eyes are glazed over, and his leg shakes with pain as they start the process of trying to help him. He's lost a lot of blood, and there are other injuries- bulletwounds, that now reveal themselves on his limbs. The look in the man's stare is awestruck... And grateful, though he says no words. He knows how many problems this is going to cause... But he also knows that he was going to die if Gabriel hadn't done that.

 

The attack ends shortly after, and luckily, none of the other Operatives were seriously injured in the fight, though everyone has cuts and bruises, a wound here or there, but none of them were life threatening.

 

But, the world is on fire with new information and outrage.

 

Word that the Reaper is still alive hits the globe, despite that he's been missing for months. The video clip of him rescuing Seventy-Six has become viral, and people use it in every argument to support their arguments, regardless what those arguments are.

 

While some speculate that Reaper is not working for Talon anymore, and is instead working alone with Seventy-Six, the vast majority are inclined to think that it's more likely that Seventy-Six was working for Talon... But then why would he have been trying to save civilians? Why was he on the ground, fighting Talon? Then... Was Seventy-Six with Overwatch, and did that mean Reaper was too? And, what were they trying to do, anyway? Why was this war between Overwatch and Talon being taken out on the rest of the world?

 

Overwatch is brought to a stand-still as the UN and other world leaders demand an explanation. All of its operations are ceased, and additionally, every operative is grounded. Though the UN does not know the specific location of the Overwatch base, they issue a warning that is both public and personal: Offer an explanation, or face termination of the organization. They were expected to attend a meeting not two days after the attack. The world demands answers, and now, Overwatch has to give them an explanation that they weren't ready to give up... And moreover, to try and explain Reaper's involvement without any of the proof they need to secure his innocence.

 

The world is polarized, and so is Overwatch. Half of them wont even look at Gabriel now, even as he sits at Jack's bedside, barely feeding himself, still pale, quiet, and disengaged from everyone else around him. Many of them think he made the wrong choice...

 

But for Gabriel, this was the _only_ choice. He knows what he did, and he would do again in a heartbeat, though he hoped he wouldn't have to.

 

Gabriel's heroic effort has come at a great cost...

 

Not only because it may now cost Overwatch its entire legality... Not only because it now brings a massive distrust on the organization as a whole in the scope of the public eye...

 

 

For him, the cost isn't just his cover, or Overwatch's future.

 

For him it's that, despite the rescue, Jack has fallen into a coma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW holy shit guys. This chapter was a doozy. I have been wanting to write these scene for months, and I really wanted it to have the impact I've been dreaming of. Everything has finally reached a burning, painful peak. I hope that this chapter isn't too disturbing to you guys, and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading, and please let me know any thoughts you have.
> 
> Thinks IRL have been really... Trying, recently. On top of some other emotional issues, we're down a car now as mine has irreparably broken again, and we're trying to figure out how we're going to deal with that, because it's basically a pile of scrap now, and have no money to buy a replacement- not even a cheap replacement. If something happens to my husband's car, we're screwed.
> 
> I'm trying to find some ways to make more money, since working a conventional job is impossible for me, not only now because I have health issues, but because I wouldn't have a means to get to work anymore even if I did have one. 
> 
> I have opened a Ko-fi, so if you enjoy this story, please consider donating a few dollars to help me get by:  
> ko-fi.com/trishields
> 
> I am also considering making a Patreon that would allow readers like you to have access to a bit more content- maybe some NSFW Jack/Gabe segments? Four a month? Something like that? As well as free sketch raffles, commission discounts, private art streams, maybe private gaming sessions with me? I haven't hashed out all of the specific details, but please, PLEASE let me know if this is something you'd be willing to support. 
> 
> As it stands, I am seriously in need of some financial help, maybe a full time sponsor or two for whom I could work religiously in return for more stable income. Without a job, it will be hard for me to keep doing what I'm doing, including writing this fiction, and all the sequels I have planned after haunted, along with all of the art I do, which can be found here: http://trishields.weebly.com/pricing.html
> 
> Please send me a note or something if you think you can help. I can be reached at Trishields14@gmail.com
> 
>  
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS, HOLY GOD I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!  
> Hopefully I can get it out in time, because things have been so stressful IRL, I haven't had a chance to write it yet.


	41. Captive

Amelie was once a dancer, a lithe, agile creature of beauty and grace. She loved someone once- a man, whose face she couldn't even remember. Yet, she knew the shape of his grave very well, and it had not changed much since the year before, and the year before that. Gilded eyes were cast down upon it, peering out of the furred hood she wore, protecting her from the snow of winter. A small sigh sifted out of her, and once more, as she had before, the sniper debated over what she was doing here.

The first time she had come here, she hadn't known what she was looking for, only knew that she had to come. There had been a man once who had known her, who had loved her. A man who had betrayed her to Overwatch. A man who had taken something _greater_ in his life than she herself. Dancing had been a thing she would do to soothe herself, to express her innermost thoughts and feelings... But she had not danced since that day, and hadn't even made an effort to do so. Beyond any doubt, she was still as flexible as then, after all, she kept herself in shape for what it was she had come to do, but the idea of putting on a sad song and letting her feet move her had long since faded away.

The alcohol soothed her now in a way that Gerard surely once did. A way that she thought Reaper _might have_... Except that she was searching to fill a void in herself that he did not have... Or perhaps it was that it was simply a void she could not have filled for him... Reaper was never content with the explanations that Talon had given them, despite how obvious the proof seemed to Widow herself. He had always demanded something more, some kind of truth, as if he knew somehow that there was something unseen going on.

Amelie knew it too, but she didn't dwell on it, because she knew that whatever the truth was, it wasn't something she wanted to uncover... She had killed her husband, and that was enough to deter her from seeking any more answers. She finally bent at the knee, leaving the rose on his grave as she so often did, then straightened again. The snow whipped at her coat, but the woman barely felt a thing... The alcohol was quite good at that, she knew, and that was the way she preferred it. No one needed to tell Amelie that the drinks were drugged. She was wholly aware, and had been for years- more or less as soon as she discovered the way it dulled the pain in her soul. She had known it too, when she had deliberately drugged Reaper with it there in the snow on the outskirts of Moscow. She had thought foolishly that perhaps she could put his mind at ease, that maybe she could coax him away from his detrimental thoughts on his past and remind him of the good that was in his present- Talon, the mission, and perhaps a weak camaraderie between them that could barely have been considered friendship. It hadn't been her intention to sleep with him... But he had listened to her in a way that no one else at Talon had, and things had lead from one to another, and for a very brief moment while she was away in her lust for him, she had forgotten the heartache that still plagued her, even if she had thought of it as a mistake the following morning.

 

But now, he had brought it back.

Akande made his attempts, but ultimately could not compare to the closeness she had felt with Reaper. After all, Doomfist had not rescued her twice, or even made an attempt to talk to her beyond business and pleasure. He was little more than a distraction.

 

Reaper, like Gerard, had betrayed her for Overwatch. He had released everything they had built with Talon and with each other for... For what? She still wasn't quite sure, and not knowing filled the woman with a sense of rage, which was a thing that they had both shared. She had seen it in him so many times, his words, looks, the very motions of his body. Those fools at Overwatch had somehow coaxed him in and... And what, tamed him? Why? How?

Widowmaker turned away from the grave and reached into her coat, pulling out a few bits of folded paper that she set her eyes upon, dusting away a bit of snow that threatened to land on them. On one, there was a ledger, a deed of sorts, along with a notice of inheritance. The Chateau. She hadn't been there since she was just a very small girl, and though it was true that Talon was her home, it might be nice to visit somewhere that wasn't constantly lurking with doctors and other subordinates that got under her skin. She could have a place that was just her own, away from everything and everyone. She could disappear... For a while.

And then there was the other document in hand, a neatly folded, pressed paper that was freshly printed... A contract from the council. Simple orders.

Eliminate target.

Gabriel Reyes

Alias: Reaper.

 

No mercy. Destroy any interference.

 

She had known he had been Gabriel Reyes since day one, though she did not know what that meant. After all, he had known it too, but had always insisted that that man was dead and gone, and that he no longer remembered the deeds of him anyway, and thus could not be considered the same man. Even now, she was vaguely fuzzy on the details of Gabriel's involvement with Overwatch, except that she knew he had once been one of them, and thanks to his revealing details to her, that he had also been intimate with Seventy Six at some point. Now it looked like he was intimate with him again, as he had so clearly charged into battle, after months of deceptive hiding and helping them, to risk everything to save the old Soldier.

 

Widowmaker had a decision to make... Retire to the Chateau and go against Talon's orders, alienating herself and putting herself on a hit list as well... And they would surely destroy her new home trying to find her, and Talon had eyes everywhere.

 

But if she obeyed them, she would also have to betray the kindness that Reaper once showed her, despite his betrayal there after...

 

Which would she pick?

 

Overwatch, meanwhile, is on total lock-down. No one comes or leaves from the facility, ever, not even for supplies, as they fear risk being discovered by the Nations that now search for them as a means to answer for what could be considered a traitorous alliance. After all, Reaper had enemies everywhere, and rightfully so... And now it looked very much like Overwatch was sheltering him.

 

And they were.

 

And no one could avoid it.

 

And no one knew what to do.

 

A knock comes at Gabriel's door, and he startles awake from a nap that he's been taking on the couch. His body aches from the nap, as it wasn't exactly a comfortable position, so he stretches as he comes to the door where a camera overhead illuminates the idle, waiting form of Sombra.

Quietly, he lets the door slide open, and glances out at her without a word, and her eyes slide past him to the glimpse of the couch, which sags with the weight Gabe had been putting on it... He had finally gotten some shuteye, anyway. That was good. It also looked like he had fed properly, because his skin and eyes were returned to their natural, healthy tone, much to the relief of everyone around.

“Can I come in?” The hacker asks finally, and Gabe glances back, sighing faintly towards the short woman.

“Is it important?” He asked, not really keen on the idea of talking when so much was going on, when so many people were hunting him, and most of Overwatch didn't want to see him. Still, the medbay had forced him to go home after having spent almost two solid days at Jack's bedside.

“Mmm, You will think so.” The hacker offers, and reluctantly he moves, stepping aside and letting her in. She's wearing purple, as usual, a long sleeve top with a pattern on it and a V neck, and over her lower half, a set of fitted dark purple jeans. A few necklaces dangle around her neck and her hair is done nicely- a clear indication that she's been obsessing entirely over herself too much since her operations have been shut down. Gabriel couldn't have reacted more oppositely. He's wearing a long sleeve black shirt with no designs, a pair of black pants and a dark red belt- he's gone a few days without a proper shave, and it shows on either cheek. Luckily, the need for heat on a regular basis has kept him bathing regularly.

“What's going on?” he rumbles finally as the door shuts behind them.

“Patience, Cariño.” She says as she steps over towards his minibar, turning finally so that her back is to it, she pulls herself up onto the edge of it and sits. “The prognosis isn't good, boss.” She muses softly. “With all of this, I mean- Jack is fine. He's recovering... Slowly.”

“You're here to give me an update?” Gabe asked. “I could have gone out and gotten one.”

“And then you wouldn't have come back for another two days- I know. But this concerns you.”

“What does?” Gabriel asks, and the hacker shrugs.

“Look- if you don't want my help-” She starts to hop off the bar, but Gabriel is suddenly in front of her.

“ _Don't._ I'm sorry. I'm just... Worried. Frustrated.”

“Aren't we all?” She asks, looking up at him. Then, her voice lowers somewhat, as if she's afraid of someone hearing. “As I said, things aren't looking good. I'm here to offer you a way out.”

“Out? What do you mean? Out of where?”

“Out of Overwatch, Gabe. The UN wants you handed over. A lot of the world wants your head. They want you to answer for your crimes, and they want to shut down Overwatch.”

“...But Overwatch helped stop the attack on Barcelona.”

“ _Did they, Gabe?_ Barcelona was already in pieces by the time we arrived. They didn't win the fight- Talon _left_.”

“But we helped...”

“Yes. We did. We helped, until you stopped the show and revealed yourself.”

“ _What do you want, Sombra. Just spit it out._ ” Reaper growls irritably, not wanting to dwell on what he had done, and all he had cost the organization to save Jack.

 

“I found Rosa.”

 

Gabriel's heart stops in his chest.

For a moment the words don't seem real. He feels his stomach sink, and his knees begin to grow weak as Sombra continues.

“She's in Colorado, Gabriel. With her husband, and two kids. She's been avoiding the backlash of the explosion for seven years. Everyone wanted to find her, to interview her, to ask if she knew about you, and she couldn't talk. She couldn't face anyone. She hid there... She thinks you're dead, Gabe. She thinks you died... But if the UN gets what they want, it's going to come out that you're... Well... You're you. When it comes out, everyone will know, and I... I honestly don't know what they'll do with you. They may try to execute you and I-” For the first time... Sombra's voice cracked, and she looked away suddenly. Tears had found her eyes, and some old memory of her own came back to haunt her.

“You want me to escape.” Gabriel said gently. “You want me to go and see them before the world hunts me down.”

“Yes.” She said gently, eyes still turned away.

Gabriel looked at her, seeing a gentle side to the hacker that he had never seen before. He reaches up and gently, carefully touches her chin, as if coaxing her to look back at him, but he's careful to notice if she recoils at all. She doesn't, however, and allows her eyes to drift back to him. For a long moment, the two look at each other, and all he can see is the pain in her eyes. She speaks, as if to explain.

“I never saw my parents, Gabriel... I never saw what happened to them. I was... I was helpless to get to them. I wanted more than anything to tell them how much I believed in them, how much I looked up to them. I never got the chance... You have the chance now to go home, to go home to Rosa, and your family. You have a chance now to disappear... I can... I can give you a new name, a new job- you could disappear-”

“Olivia.” Gabriel rumbles softly, soothing her as she suddenly breaks down into sobs. Suddenly, she's hugging him, her arms wrapped around his chest- she is clearly terrified that he's going to die. Slowly, he holds her back, and sighs. “I... I don't know what to say.” he confesses. So many things run through his mind. He wants to see Rosa again. He wants to visit what family he has... Whoever he has left...

...And he could escape. He could get away, and disappear.

 

But... There's something _wrong_ with that, wasn't there? Jack was in a coma. Overwatch was being held responsible for what Reaper had done, and possibly what he'd done before. They would have to deny any involvement with Talon. There was so much now that they would have to do to clear themselves of all of the wrong he had done. Additionally, they'd have to explain why he was there with them in the first place, and no one had evidence to redeem him. But... Freedom. Life.

 

“I can't leave Jack here, Olivia.” He says, and she slowly releases him and looks up at him.

“I can plan to move him as soon as he's awake. They wont touch him while he's here... Not while he's like this. But we don't have time to waste, Gabriel. The UN will demand answers in days. If you're going to get out, you have to get out now.”

“Rosa may not even want to keep me around once she sees who I am.”

“You're going to tell her?”

“I don't have any choice. She saw my grave. She knows I died. She will ask how I'm alive, and I'm not going to lie to her.”

For a long moment, Sombra seemed to digest these words, sucking in a breath as she looked down. “We shouldn't go alone. It isn't safe. If someone finds us while we're out...”

“Jesse.” Gabriel suddenly interrupts. “I made Jesse a promise that if I leave, he goes with me... And Jaelen.”

“Carter?”

“She's been abandoned and betrayed too many times before, Sombra. If Overwatch goes down, I'm not letting her fall with it. She'll come with me.”

“... Fine. I'll talk to them, but I wont make any guarantees. We can be on a ship tonight.”

“Have you discussed this with the higher ups?” Gabriel suddenly asked.

“... Yes. Reluctantly, and with some arguing, they have agreed to let you go. They know who you are, Gabe. They know why you did what you did. They have agreed to take this fall regardless. They... They don't think you deserve to die. They know you're innocent, even if we can't prove it yet. We'll be taking a stealth ship.”

“And Jack?”

“Will come along as soon as he's well enough to go.”

“... Can you promise me that he _will_ recover, Sombra?” Gabe asks, brows knitting.

“... No. But I can tell you that he's doing better today than he was yesterday. You should go see him anyway. And you should pack what you have.” The girl was hopping off of the bar counter and moving away towards the door.

“... Thank you, Olivia.” Gabriel suddenly calls to her as she reaches the door. She pauses and dips her head gently.

“We'll find a way, Gabe. We'll make it through.”

Then, she leaves, and Gabriel is left in stunned, excited silence. Almost at once, he begins preparing himself and his things, managing to cram everything he owns and cares to take with him into a simple backpack, including the picture that Jack had given him for Christmas. Then... Something else occurs to him. The guitar. If he's leaving this place, he may not come back... And Rosa... His family, they deserved that guitar. She would take it if it was given from his own hands.

 

Minutes later, after everything is prepared, Gabriel stands at the foot of Jack's hospital bed. The reality has dawned on him that if he leaves this room, he may never see Jack again... He may get executed before Jack ever wakes up. That, this might be the last time he sees him alive, and if he leaves, he may very well be abandoning Jack. What if Jack woke up, and decided not to... _Run and hide._ The words pop into Gabriel's mind like a condescending slight against him. That's what he was doing, running and hiding. Was that who Jack was? Was that who Jack had ever been?

 

No.

 

Gabriel swallows hard, then leans forward and kisses Jack on his still lips. Then, he turns to go. He has to go. He has to see Rosa again. He needs her to know who he really was... And maybe Jack would forgive him some day.

 

Reluctantly, he tore himself away from Jack and left the room, immediately regretting it. He struggled not to let the emotion reach his eyes, and said nothing to anyone as he made his way away, down into the hangar where Sombra was waiting for him. When he arrived, Jaelen was waiting for him, along with Jesse, who was sleepy-eyed and leaning against the side of the ship.

 

“You sure about this, boss?” Came the bleary-eyed cowboy.

“ _No._ ” Gabe replied quietly. “But... I have to see her. I have to go. Are you still-”

“I'm keepin' to my word, goddamnit. You ain't goin' nowhere without me.”

“Me too.” Jay uttered from nearby, bumping into his elbow as she drew close, looking up at him. “This world don't know you like we do. If you gotta hide until you're clear... Well that's how it's gotta be, ey? Lets go before he changes his mind.” Jay says to Sombra, who smirks faintly. The hacker looks oddly giddy as they board the ship, and as the loading door closes behind them, she giggles.

“What the hell're you on about?” Jesse asks as he promptly takes a seat along one side wall of the ship, and Gabe soon moves over to join him, settling his bad and the guitar case nearby on the floor, secured so that it won't slide.

“Augh!” The hacker exclaims. “This is so exciting isn't it?! It's just like old times!”

“What're you talking about?” Gabe interrupts as the ship begins to move.

“Oh! Well it's just that sometimes when Jesse was still seeing Hanzo-”

“Aw hell! Why don't you shut your mouth before I shut it for ya!” Jesse suddenly rebukes, hiding his face with his hat as he slouches in his seat. Jay leans in, and Sombra eagerly sits down, laughing and lowering her voice. She wasn't listening to Jesse.

“Sometimes he'd go on these little _secret missions_ -”

“ _To see Hanzo?_ ” Gabe asks incredulously, smirking faintly. Beneath his hat, Jesse has turned a lovely shade of crimson.

“Something like that, anyway... Said he was doing... “Research.”” Sombra said, chuckling again. “I guess he decided to go cave diving in some wild, untamed Japanese territori-”

“Holy fuck! What'n hell'd I do to you! Jesus Christ.” Jesse suddenly interrupts- it's possible that he's never heard Sombra utter something so lewd and personal before. Jay is suddenly roaring with laughter. Gabe can't help himself- the sound of the two girl's laughter is infectious, and soon, he's laughing too. A hand reaches over to clasp Jesse lightly on the shoulder, giving him a small shake, but the gunslinger didn't reply, only slouched further and continued to hide his face. Soon, the ship is in flight, and they're away from the mountains. Gabriel looks back at the base through a thin, rectangular window, lamenting it immediately. He hadn't even gotten to tell Katie what was happening or where he was going. “Does she know we're coming?” Gabriel said to Sombra as she drew nearby, looking out the same row of windows.

“No. I couldn't risk any kind of call being received. I'm simply going to take you there to her and give you some time to talk to her alone.”

“... Alone. Is that safe?”

“Safe enough.”

“What if her husband doesn't like me?”

“Tough luck, buttercup. You're her brother. She will still talk to you even if he doesn't want to.”

Gabe offers a small half laugh. “Yes. I suppose you're right.” Sombra returns to her seat and entertains herself on her holo-screen, and soon, Gabe goes back too, only to eventually find Jaelen's head resting in his lap, which he does not try to discourage. She sleeps, for a while, as does Jesse... And the flight is long... More than long enough for Gabe to dwell on what's happening and what he's doing.

 

Hours later, his mind is still on the topic when the ship finally began to slow. Suddenly, his stomach churns with absolute nervousness. He hasn't seen Rosa in years. Almost a decade. And... He has never met his nieces and nephews- which was it? Both?

 

The ship sets down in stealth mode, almost completely silent, completely undetectable in a part in a residential district just in the suburbs of Boulder, Colorado. The sky is just beginning to lighten on the far east horizon, and trees impede any sunlight it might give. It's a Tuesday, and some people are already getting in their cars to go to work. The city, which he can see from here, is already lit up and bustling with activity. Sombra has given him the address, and with his hoodie pulled up and drawn close about his face, with sunglasses over his eyes. He walks casually, normally. The tech under his hoodie manages to keep all of his shadows on lock-down as he makes his way down the street, looking at the house numbers until, finally he spots it.

It's at the very end of the street, a house at the end of a T-intersection, white walls with dark brown trim, American style home with a hedge row dividing the property from its neighbors. The grass is brown and patchy here and there, still laden with snow where winter has been punishing it. A mailbox at the end of the driveway is slightly bent, rusted with age. There's a small gate that leads to a back yard with a sign that says, Beware of Dog. There's a sedan sitting out front that looks like it's seen some years, but Gabriel doesn't remember them having it the last time he saw her. In fact, as far as he can remember, she was still in California the last time he saw her. For a moment, Gabriel doubts whether or not this is even correct information. Was it possible that Sombra could have gotten the wrong address? The wrong people entirely? Gabriel lingers near the end of the street he's on, standing at the corner near a street sign, when the front door of the house suddenly opens.

 

A man walks out carrying a briefcase, wearing a warmer coat and business shoes. He has pale skin and brown hair. Gabe looks away to hide his face immediately, but he hears a sound then that startles him...

A giggle. Small, barely there at first, then louder, until another voice joins it. There's two of them, maybe five and six years old, a little girl and an older boy. Both have a darker skin tone. The girl's hair is black, and the boys... Dark brown. Just like Gabe's.

His eyes widen behind his shades, and despite his best efforts, he finds himself staring. His lips part faintly, and his heart again stops in his chest. Every muscle in his body tenses and goes still. Forcing himself to look away and pretending to occupy himself with a phone, he hears all three get into the worn sedan, and soon, it pulls out of the driveway and down the street, away from him.

 

Gabriel stares after them, and then glances back towards the door. It's closed now, seeming to beckon him.

 

Slowly, he crosses the street, stomach tying itself in knots. His fingers twitch at his sides until he shoves them into his pockets, until the small porch overhang shadows him as he steps into it. Hands withdraw again, and he struggles. Finally, he steels himself, and reaches out and grips the screen door handle and opens it, then knocks. At first, there's no sound, but after a second, nervous knock, he hears a sound.

“ _Just a minute!_ ”

Gabriel chokes on his breath. It's her voice.

Suddenly, the sound of the door cracking open interrupts him, and her face comes into view, smile wide, “Did you forget someth-”

But it wasn't her husband who was standing there. Her eyes are wide, smile bright.

“Oh... Uh... I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong house-” She says, but Gabriel lightly shakes his head.

“I don't.” She had been closing the door at first, but then, when she hears his voice, she stops. There's something different about it... Something wrong... And yet... Something familiar. Gabriel wants to scream inside, he's so terrified and nervous. Slowly, he reaches up and draws back his hood, and Rosa stares on, unsure and confused, perplexed by his voice. Then, with the hood dropped, he looks up, and removed his shades... She reaches over and turns on the porch light, so that she can see the stranger outside of the silhouette that early morning is giving him.

 

Then... Silence.

The two lock eyes and stare at each other for the longest, quietest moment.

Gabriel can't breathe, and he has no words.

 

The color in Rosa's cheeks has drained, and her lips have turned down, awestruck and strange. It's clear that she's not sure if what she's seeing is real, or if this person is actually who he looks like.

 

Slowly, she shakes her head.

 

“ _I... No... It can't... You died..._ ” Tears have formed in her eyes. She keeps the screen door locked. “ _You can't be him. Who are you, and why are you here? How did you find me? What do you wa-_ ”

“It's me, Rosa... It's your brother. It's Gabriel.” He says, trying his very best to sound like himself.

 

She stares on, unsure, but eventually, she touches the screen door handle and pushes it open, and stands in front of him. Her skin is just the same color it always was, her eyes a dark, dark brown that is almost black, long eyelashes like their mother, pitch black hair.

 

“Rosa...” he says gently, before she is suddenly reaching up to touch his face. At first, she recoils, because his skin is colder than usual, but she's looking into his eyes. Despite the red flecks in it, she knows it's him. She can see it in him.

Suddenly, she has taken him into a hug, and she is sobbing. She murmurs a long string of words in Spanish that even he can barely catch. Her face presses into his chest and her hands pull him close. Suddenly, she is urging him into the house- away from the front door, aware that something might be amiss.

“How- how- HOW, Gabriel... How is this possible..!? I can't... I don't know how...”

“It's... Complicated.” He replies.

“You _barely_ sound like yourself... What happened to you?”

“I died, Rosa... It wasn't exactly an easy transition... “

“How are you here? Where have you been? How long have you been alive... Again?”

 

She tugs him into the living room, and he stands there awkwardly until she motions him to sit.

“I'll answer all of your questions, Rosa, but you need to be patient with me. There is so much that you don't know... That I could never tell you. Things that you should not repeat. No one can know I am here... Do you understand?”

“... But Gabriel...”

“No one, Rosa... No one can know. Please.”

“...Alright.” She says, and slowly, she comes to sit across from him, staring at him. She still cant believe her eyes, and she's so taken aback by what she's looking at, that she fails to even remember her host manners, so neither of them get a drink. For a long time, she asks questions... What happened to Overwatch, what happened to Jack. What was with the Media hype and why did they target him? What was Blackwatch and what were they doing there? How did he die and how was he resurrected. This was the part where answering the questions got difficult.

“I... I wasn't well, Rosa. I wasn't sleeping. I was having nightmares, I was struggling. My relationship was suffering. Jack told me to get help so... So I did. I tried to, anyway. I went to the wrong place for it. I recruited someone bad. Someone who drugged me. She turned me into this terrible person... She lead me to do things I never would have done...”

Gabriel's eyes trail towards the nearby holo-screen, which has been on this entire time, until now, showing kids shows. Now, a news program has come on, and it's showing the same clip that people have been seeing all week, over and over again... Reaper, saving Sevety-Six.

“Oh... Sorry. Let me turn it off- I'm so sick of the media-”

“Don't.” Gabe says finally, looking back to her. “This is important, Rosa... Because...” He sucks in a breath. “That?” He dips his head towards the screen as it has zoomed in on Reaper himself.

 

“...That's me. She turned me into that-”

“Wha-? No, that's that Terrorist-”

“It's _me_ , Rosa... It's always been me. Reaper has always been me.”

 

Here, the woman stares at him wordlessly, confused and in disbelief. She shakes her head. “This isn't funny, Gabe. Just tell me what happened.” She says, and Gabriel sighs.

 

“Rosa...”

“No! Gabriel! Enough with the games, tell me what happened! Tell me how you lived!”

 

Gabriel looks down, looking at his hands, and he reluctantly moves to stand. She wouldn't believe him any other way.

Slowly, he lets his body change. He lets the shadow start at his fingertips, and then roll its way up his arms, until he has become a wraithed ghost. Rosa has staggered backwards in her seat, suddenly shouting in mild alarm until a hand reaches up and cups her mouth. When the transformation is done, Reaper stands there in full armor, full gear, mask included. Her breathing has stopped, and she stares at him, shaking her head, ignoring the pile of his regular clothing that had collected in his place, replaced by his ghostly attire.

“ _No. No no no no, it can't be. You can't be him!_ ”

“But I am... I was turned into this thing, Rosa. I did not choose to end up like this... I was trying to get help for my nightmares. They poisoned me against Jack. They manipulated me, experimented on me. I... The rumors were true... That I was doing terrible things. Kidnapping people. Torturing people... That I blew up the base. It's all true.”

“Gabriel... No. No, I can't accept this- please... Tell me it isn't...”

“It's true. You have to believe me. And this is why no one can know I'm here. It isn't safe for either of us.”

“But you- the media... They're hunting you.”

“Yes. They are.”

“Why did you come here...?”

“Because...” Gabriel trailed off for a moment, looking down at his hands and then back to her once more. “Because I needed to see you at least once.”

“Once? What do you mean?”

“I wanted you to know the truth about me, Rosa... The truth is that my friends brought me here to escape what's coming for me. I left Talon. I betrayed them to go back to Overwatch in search of my remaining memories. I found Jack there and I... I fell in love with him again. I found a purpose, and I remembered who I was.” The man pauses, as if considering what he's saying, the story he's telling, and he's just now realizing it for himself. He's come such a long way... And now, all of that stood on the edge of a knife. “Now, I am fighting with Overwatch against Talon, but I have been in hiding this entire time, because I have to have proof to give to the UN, to give to the world, of my innocence. And I don't quite have it. Not yet. Almost, but not entirely. I needed to stay hidden until we had it.. But then Jack got hurt, and I... I couldn't watch him-”

“Wait... Jack. You mean... Seventy-Six?”

“It's him, Rosa. I saved him from the explosion, barely, all those years ago. I did not save myself. He's spent the last seven years looking for me. He thought I betrayed them. He knows better now. So when I saw him get hurt, I couldn't let him die. I had to save him. So now the world is hunting for me, and Overwatch brought me here to escape. They want to give me a new identity, give me a new life...”

“... But? You had a pause there, Gabe. That usually means there's a but.”

“... But Jack is in a coma, and Overwatch is paying for my mistakes. I'm the one that hired the woman who turned me into this thing. I am still the man who did all those things.”

“... So you're not going to flee.”

“Have you ever known me to back away from a fight?”

And Rosa smiles, then chuckles.

“No... You're going to go back there, aren't you.”

“I have to, Rosa. The fight isn't over for me. Not yet. I want Talon to pay for what they've done, and the world needs Overwatch... And I need Jack. I can't leave him there. I don't want to hide. If I have to pay for what I've done... Then I will. But I needed to see you. Soon, very soon, the world is going to know that I am Reaper, and I didn't want you, and yours, to think that _that_ was who I was. I wanted you to know me for who I am and what I'm doing. I wanted to see you before... Before whatever happens. And I have something for you. Something for your family...”

“... La Caviera...” She echoes, already knowing what it was.

“It belongs in our family, Rosa... And now you can take it, without hiding from your pain. Please.”

“I'll take it. Do you have it?” She says quietly after a long moment.

“On the ship that brought me here. I'll give it to you before I leave... But for safety... I should not meet your children, or your husband-”

“Jake. His name is Jake.” Oh, she married him after all.

“Ah... Yeah. Anyway. Not yet, alright? It isn't safe, because besides the UN, Talon will also be hunting me. You wont pay for this. They wont pay for this. You can't tell anyone I was here. Especially not over the phone. Alright?”

“I understand...” She said softly.

 

They then talked for several more hours, mostly involving what Gabriel had done to get to this point, and what Rosa had done with her life in the last seven years, which was to get married and have two kids, naturally. Eliza and Richard, respectively. Eventually, he borrows a restroom to change back into his standard clothing, which was significantly less horrifying.

When finally Sombra starts prying into Gabe's earpiece with curious questions, he tells her that he is coming to get his things... But when he fetches only the guitar, all hell ensues.

 

“What do you fuckin' mean you ain't doin' it, Gabe!?” Jesse barks. “You need this, goddamnit. Who knows what the hell they'll do to you!?”

“It's _my_ fight, Jesse. It was me who invited her in, it was me who ignored Jack's advise so many times. It was so many things- and I am _not_ going to abandon Jack and let him fight my battles for me. He wouldn't go into hiding and you know it-”

“Didn't he already? Wasn't that what he was doin' as Seventy-Six?”

“He was still fighting, then! If I stay here, I wont be. I'll be hiding from my problems, and Overwatch will fall. The world needs us and you damn well know it.” Gabe hisses, and none of the three can argue back with him. Yes, the world needed Overwatch, and if Gabriel left, sure, he'd live, but Overwatch would cease to exist. Then, who would stop Talon? No one. That wasn't a cost he was willing to pay. Gabriel and Jack had started Overwatch together. It was theirs, and Talon had already destroyed it once. He wasn't going to let that happen again. He quietly delivers the guitar to Rosa, and with a kiss on the cheek and a hug that felt like it shouldn't end, he finally left.

No one else on the ship seemed pleased about flying all the way to Colorado, from Italy, just to turn around and go back.

 

And yet, that was exactly what they did.

Hours after meeting her for the first time in years, Gabriel already misses Rosa. He misses what he should have seen in the last seven years, and knows that no drug can bring back memories that never occurred. But... His conscience is clear. He's going back to where he belongs- at Jack's side, with Overwatch, ready to finish what he started.

 

“You sure about this, Gabi?” Jay asks on their way back towards the base, and he nods at her.

“I haven't been more sure about anything in my life, Jaelen. I saw... The last of it, I suppose. I saw the explosion.”

Suddenly, Jesse was listening in, despite that he tried not to let it on, Gabe saw the faint tilt of his head from where he sat, and knew that the cowboy was eavesdropping.

Gabe continues, because he has very little to hide now, from everyone, and in part, he felt he needed to air it out.

“He did all of this for me, Jaelen. Everything. Overwatch... The War... He could have stopped after SEP. He could have left and gone home to his grandparent's farm out in the country. He could have put behind him all the pain that we had gone though... But he didn't. Why? For me. He stayed for me, Jay. He stayed, because he didn't want to leave my side. He stayed, because he didn't want me to be alone in this... And how did I repay him? I repaid him by hiring someone he didn't trust. I didn't listen to him when I should have. I betrayed everything he and I had built together, so that I could try to solve my problems alone... Because I was too afraid and too ashamed to bother asking for real help, or accepting that I might be _wrong_ about something, and allowing someone else to tell me how it was suppose to be. And Jack... Jack covered for me. He made every excuse. He took every one of the blows was meant for me and bore that pain himself. It destroyed him... And when I left... When I really left... When I blew everything sky high in a fueled rage, it killed him. I saw his heart break in his eyes. I watched his soul crumble in front of me. I broke him- and the worst part is that... At the time? I had no regrets. No remorse, not even a concept that I had done something somehow wrong. It wasn't until he told me all of the truth that I began to realize what wrong I had done. I saved him, barely, but it cost me myself. And he? He became Seventy-Six because he refused to give up. He refused to accept that this was something I had done to him, and he was determined to give me the rest I deserved from the hell I was living. And Overwatch... Without me, it was all he had left. For him it was never a choice to stop fighting. And now, I have the option to leave... To flee and hide. I've been a lot of things, Jaelen, but never a coward. Jack needs me now, and he will need me when he wakes up. I am _not_ going to abandon him. It's the _least_ I can do after what I've caused-”

“It wasn' just _you,_ boss... You did what anyone could have done. You saw it as your problem, and he was stressed, so you didn't want to bother him with it... And I guess, maybe you wanted to prove that you weren't helpless after they promoted him over you... It's understandable, really. People just don't know that yet. They will... Still... I can respect ya for going back to your man... Just wish you hadn' drug me all this way to do it!” Jesse rumbles. “Could have gotten some more shut eye...”

“Amen to that.” Sombra uttered quietly under her breath.

 

The rest of the flight was quiet, and it wasn't long before the gunslinger was actually snoring up a storm in the seat beside him. Jaelen wasn't far behind, but she was significantly quieter. Sombra sat across the way, playing on her personal holo. Eventually, Gabe slept too, if barely.

 

When he arrives back at the base, Ana confronts him.

“They're coming, Gabriel.” She says abruptly. They're sitting in the command center, and Winston is nearby. “We have fought for you as much as we can. We've told them... Everything. We've told them about Moira, about the drugs. We've shown them what little evidence we have against Talon. They say that unless we can prove you were drugged at the time of your... Betrayal, that we don't have enough of a case, and that they can't allow you to go free. Once our scientists make the solid connection between Widow's blood and the chemical, we can connect it to Moira's written confession, the journals. Then, we'll have solid proof. But until then...”

“Lock-down.” Gabe says flatly, looking down. “I didn't really want to be grounded but-”

 

“...No Gabriel. Not lock-down.” Winston interrupts.

“...Huh? What do you mean?”

 

“The world doesn't trust you, Reaper. They're torn by what they saw. No one knows what the truth is except us. They have decided that, whatever the truth happens to be, you are not safe enough to leave unattended...

 

They're going to imprison you, Gabriel.”

 

Prison.

 

The word settles in Gabriel's core like a lead weight.

 

Prison was not a place he had ever been, nor planned to go, and it certainly wasn't the kind of place that _Reaper_ could go, safely. For a long moment, he recalls what Winston had said about them finding a way to execute Reaper. How would that go, exactly? Injections probably wouldn't work. Electrocution? Incineration? Nanites that would literally tear him apart from the inside out? A good old fashioned stoning? Who knew, honestly. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, and Gabriel wasn't eager to find out.

“They'll be here tomorrow. You were suppose to be gone by now, and we wouldn't have to fight them to keep you here... Some of the staff don't want to fight of course. Some of them want to turn you over. If Overwatch gets put under... Gabriel, hundreds of people will lose their jobs. Their livelihoods. We're going to have to figure out what we're going to do... It could turn into a fight, and if it does, we're all criminals.”

“We're all criminals anyway, Winston. We started this long before we were allowed to... Someone needs to stand up for Gabriel...” Ana says defiantly, and Winston looks back at her.

“But fighting the UN over him won't bring Overwatch back, either, Ana. We need to cooperate- that's the only way we keep all of this...”

“And let them take him away? He's innocent!”

“But they don't know that! We need time... Time to show them.”

“And what do you expect them to do until then? Just... Just imprison him-?”

 

“Stop.” Gabriel says with a sigh, shaking his head. “They may not even show up. Do they even know the way here?”

 

“...We were forced to give up our coordinates-”

“ _Winston_ gave them the coordinates after you left, Gabriel. We thought that if you were already gone, they could come, look for you, and find nothing.”

“So my returning here has fucked things up.” He sighs.

“Yes.” Winston says immediately.

“N-No!” Ana stammers towards the Gorilla. “No, Gabriel. I think you have a right to be here. I don't think you should feel obligated to hide a world you're trying to save.”

 

Gabriel shook his head. This was not an argument that they should have, and he knew that it would come down to him, and what he chose to do. If he open fired on UN officials, that was it- Overwatch was condemned. Of course, Overwatch was condemned if shots were even fired in his defense. He already knew that they were going to be under a heavy investigation just for sheltering him in the first place without telling anyone, especially not with their contract with the world, more or less.

 

He would have to make a decision.

 

“Not now. We can't do this now.” Gabriel says, interrupting the two's argument. “Let's just wait. Let's just wait until tomorrow and see what happens. For all we know, they're just sending one ship, and it wont be more than a couple guys. Maybe we can deter them. Talk some sense into them. Let them negotiate with me, personally. We'll figure something out. It's late, and I need to see Jack before I sleep.” He says, moving to stand, and without waiting for an answer, he leaves, striding away towards the medbay, hood up, avoiding anyone who looked his way.

 

Jack hasn't moved since Gabriel left him. The man is quiet and still, breathing steadily, his leg heavily bandaged and resting in a cast. There are a few other bandages on his person, or small lines of stitches where bullets have grazed him, more than enough bruises on his frame to last, even with the bio-stream nearby that was fueling into him, trying to help coax him out of sleep. Gabriel sits with him for a while, holding his hand as he seeks the warmth of his body- the comfort that it gives him. What would Jack say they do now? Gabriel wants to know- needs to know. Jack was the hero they needed here, and ultimately, it was his opinion that mattered most to Gabriel. What would he have done? What was the answer here?

 

Gabriel came awake the following morning in his room, well aware that in just a few hours time, there was going to be some kind of confrontation here that no one was prepared for. Everyone on base was on edge, even in the cafe where people so often relaxed. Katie was there with Gabriel, trying to soothe him, though she has no answers for him either, and the two sit and talk, drink and eat, and then, Gabriel is off to see Jack again.

 

By the time the UN arrives, Gabriel knows what he has to do.

 

The ship docks into the hangar sometime into mid-morning. All of the Overwatch's main core stand there watching, oddly milling around as they stand, eager to see what's going to happen. For the purpose of safety, all other employees have been sent to their quarters, where they are told to stay until the confrontation ends. It's one ship, but it's large. Twenty armed men in full armor and pulse rifles disembark the ship before an appointed official emerges from within the ship. They're equipped with a strange set of tools that Gabriel doesn't recognize... And Gabriel himself is standing there, in full armor, full tactical gear, but his hood is down, revealing his face.

 

“So, it's true.” The appointed official says. She's a tall woman with bleach-blond hair, shortly cut, with green eyes and pale, freckled skin. She's wearing a uniform that is much like a suit dark navy blue with accents of goldenrod, and black wiring that plugs into a visor across her eyes. It's very clear that she's a member of some kind of universal security... A legal bounty hunter of sorts, sent to take Reaper. “They said that the Commander of Blackwatch died... But here you are... And a Traitor to boot. Who might have known.”

Nearby, Jesse suddenly barks.

“You don't know a thing about him! You ain't got no right to take him away from he-”

“I have a signed, written right to do exactly that- deadlock.” She'd done her homework, or someone had done it for her. “By legality, I am obligated to show it to you.” She says, producing a small device that she soon drops into the floor in front of her. It lights up, a bright white and blue hologram reveals itself from inside. It's the document in question, signed by almost eighty percent of the UN. It was easily more than enough than would have been required to bring Gabriel in. Her eyes shift back to Gabriel, and then to the others. “This doesn't have to be a fight, Overwatch. Many people believe in what you're trying to do here... And I think, many of you even still think you're doing the right thing... But everyone here has lost sight of one reality...” She lifts her hand, pointing directly at Gabriel.

“ _That's rude._ ” Jaelen murmurs from nearby.

“THIS man has betrayed Overwatch, either intentionally or unintentionally. He has slaughtered _thousands_ of innocent people. He has been _instrumental_ in aiding the terrorist organization known as Talon, and with his help, they have devastated the world. Many of you say he is innocent, that he can be trusted... But you have no proof. There is nothing here to say besides your word that he isn't manipulating you right now for some kind of personal gain. Reaper has not shown mercy nor altruism before, and it doesn't make sense as to why he would now.”

Ana steps forward, but stops when the clicking of guns level on her.

“This man has been one of our family for decades. Yes, he made mistakes. We've all made mistakes. We've all done things we regretted. None of us are innocent in this. Gabriel has changed from the things he did-”

“Irrelevant, Amari.” The nameless woman quells, and Ana's eyes turn fierce.

“He belongs here with us.”

“No. He belongs in a prison until we can find the truth.”

“Why don't you try and take him then!” Jesse suddenly barks, raising his weapon, and suddenly, people are shouting.

“Wait! This is nonsensical!” Angela suddenly interrupts, trying to put herself between the gunmen and Jesse. “This can _not_ work like this!” She turns to face Gabriel and the rest of the team then. “Overwatch was shut down once before... For a reason. We did not obey the rules of this world. If we can't be held accountable for these actions, how are we any different from Talon?” She asks, and from behind the woman speaks.

“To my understanding, you were one of the ones aiding him the most, Miss Zeigler. I hope you're not expecting some kind of reward for siding with us.” Angela's head snaps towards her, fierce for a moment.

“Of course not. Gabriel is still my friend, and part of this family... But Overwatch needs to exist. The world needs us. The world needs what we can do... And we can not do that if the UN shuts us down over this. I hate the idea that this is what it costs... But we should have been forthcoming with our intentions. We should not have kept Gabriel's presence here as a secret.”

“... I agree.” Genji suddenly interrupts.

“The hell?” McCree suddenly growls.

“Brother-” Genji tries to soothe.

“I _ain't_ your brother.” Jesse snaps, obviously offended by this. “How could you throw him under the bus like this- he took you in, he repaired you-”

 

“ _Enough._ ” Gabriel finally says, exhausted. The rumble of his voice leaves no question to his identity. “Angela is right. The world needs Overwatch.”

“ _Reyes you can't leave-_ ” Jesse starts.

“ _Gabi, what're you sayin'!_ ” Jaelen whispers, but he silences them both with a hand.

 

“I made a lot of mistakes, way back then. I have to pay for them now. The only way Overwatch Survives this is if they cooperate. Overwatch does not _need_ me here, but the world needs Overwatch to exist. Prison isn't the end of everything... I have to atone for what I've done. I have to show the world that I am willing to cooperate, that I'm willing to start over. To pay for the pain I've caused... It's the _only_ way.” He insists, and Half of the defenders there with them seem to deflate. Jaelen knows that Gabriel's trying to be noble... But it feels like defeat for her. Angela's eyes meet Gabriel's, and they're full of sorrow. She's almost in tears. _I'm sorry,_ she seems to whisper soundlessly to him.

 

“I'll go with you.” Gabriel says finally, looking back to the official.

 

She smiles agreeably, then reaches down to her belt, revealing a set of handcuffs, similar though not identical to the ones Overwatch had used on him months ago when he first arrived on the ship with him. Suppression cuffs.

 

His eyes turn towards Jesse and Jaelen, Ana and the others.

 

“I guess this is goodbye.” He says quietly, and he can see their hearts break faintly within them. Jaelen, the tough girl that she is, suffers back a sob as her eyes tear up. His eyes turn to Jesse, who looks infuriated but sad. The cowboy comes forward.

“ _You said if you left that I-_ ”

“I know. I know, Jesse. I know what I said, but I need you here... You need to look after Jack for me. You need to tell him what happened here. You need to watch after Jay, and you need to help the others. They need you. And you need _them_ too.”

“You don't even know how long you'll be gone! You don't even know if you'll come back. They could do anything to you-”

“ _I know, Jesse._ ”

These words make the gunslinger swallow down his emotions hard, until Gabriel suddenly reaches into his coat, which makes the soldiers tense up... But he reveals something... The small, folded photograph that Jesse had given him back in Fiji. “I can't very well take it with me.” Gabriel says.

Jesse, with glazed eyes, looks down at it, and finally, hesitantly takes it. “...Just until you get back. Not a moment later.” The cowboy says, trying to convince himself that Gabriel would come back.

 

“Tell Jack that I love him,” Gabe says quietly to the man.

 

“...And tell him... That I would have said yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! 
> 
> I am taking a week off next week, so do not expect a chapter next Sunday, but the following Sunday, Chapters will resume as usual.  
> I have a lot of commissions to do and chapters to catch up on, so I will be taking this week to do that!
> 
> As always let me know if you find any errors or typos in the work. Thanks again!


	42. Abandoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Maximum Angst mode engaged.
> 
> I have a Ko-fi! Please help me keep this story afloat!: ko-fi.com/trishields

Darkness.

 

It's a familiar thing to Gabriel, and he's known it now as long as he's been Reaper. He preferred it before. He preferred the silence that it allowed him, and the quiet, all encompassing solitude it gave to him. Such was a comforting thing, then, when he had nothing else to remind him of how good the outside world could have been. It had been his sanctuary, in a time where he had known nothing but pain, anger and confusion. He had gone out of his way, to seek the shadows, even when there were hands extended to him- a hand, in the dark. Purple skinned, navy hair... Now, a murderous, broken husk of a woman he had once known, now more weapon than human at all. She had tried to help him in her own, bizarre way, and ultimately, he had abandoned her to her own devices, perhaps not intentionally, but not with the same fervor had he gone to help her as had the Overwatch team come to help him.

And it had come to this.

This deafening silence, the cold, unfeeling metal and stone that seemed to swallow him up like a beast coming after comparatively small prey. A snack in the grand scheme of things. Here, a place where time was impossible to discern, hours and days passed like weeks and months to Gabriel, who was a man barely counting age himself. He had seen nothing but the inside of this cell now for a length of time he did not know. There were only a few things that gave this room any definition at all. The room was no larger than five feet across, and so short that he could not jump without hitting his head on the ceiling. He was vaguely aware of a door at the front of the room, solid metal, like that of a bank vault, and through a tube built into the very bottom, twice a day, food was extruded onto a small tray with the consistency of toothpaste. Flavorless and barely edible, it reminded Gabriel very much of the pink-slime of yesteryear that had caused so much disturbance. Yet, even this was nothing to Gabriel, who could not feed on it. He tried, and slowly, he was able to absorb a very minute amount from it, barely enough to keep him alive... Yet even he knew it was slowly killing him. It was not enough, and he was starving.

There were cuffs around his wrists now that had been there so long that the wounds did not heal on their own anymore, and his beard had grown out long enough to scrape against his chin. Hair hung down in uneven lengths, thick, dark brown locks hanging down like daggers around Gabriel's jawline, some reaching the tops of his shoulders. His skin was pale and fragile, his body beginning to wither. Where fingertips once rested, deadly black triangles of horror now rested instead. His eyes, solid black with those thin halos of red light gave him away in this hell that had become his home. Intermittently, slats in the ceiling would open up to drench him with first soapy water, and then water so cold that it left him shivering for hours there after. They did this at random intervals, so that the wraith could never quite determine how long he'd been in confinement. Twice a day, he estimated, a long, narrow vent at the very top of the wall near the back of the cell would open to pump in new air and recycle his. For a moment, this was the only light he received from the outside world, but the cuffs around his wrists, the suppression abilities within them, made it impossible for him to shift out or away. In fact, his smoke could not escape from him at all. He was trapped within his comparatively weaker human form, without the comfort that his shift was able to give him.

That meant that if he did want to feed, he had to do it on his knees, head down, like a broken animal, practically slurping up the vile paste that they forced him to eat, hands back at the small of his spine, where they had been ever since he arrived.

 

And he didn't even know where he was... He just knew, he was so sure that this couldn't be legal.

 

Perhaps the world had made an exception for the man who had taken hundreds, thousands of their children and lovers from them.

 

 _Yes,_ he thought. _I deserve this._

 

Every day.

 

_I deserve this._

 

Was there something worse than death?

 

Equivocally, beyond any shred, beyond even a hairline fracture of doubt, Yes. This was worse than any pain Gabriel could have expected. Was this what he had brought upon people? Was this what it felt like to lose a son or a daughter?

 

And for what? So that he could seek his own help, alone, without them? So that he could have what he felt like he had earned?

 

_And now you are. Now you are._

 

Self doubt and hate was the most crippling of all these punishments. The loss of Jack, of Jesse, Rosa, Jay, and all of those others who had become family to him was a secondary wound to the one he dug into himself every day that he sat in that prison.

 

And here he had begun to wilt and die, and the world would watch it happen.

 

~

 

Pain rolled through every inch of Jack's form. He could see it again, the way Gabriel had rolled away from him, black miasma seeping from his person like thick, sticky oil poured from a new vein. That man had become a monster for him, and used that monster to save him. He hadn't been able to feel his leg then. In fact, he couldn't feel anything but the staggering pain that had rolled through his dying body when Reaper had rescued him... How he had done that. Why he had done that... The price he had paid in return for Jack's life.

 

~

 

Jack woke with a start, gasping and breathing heavily as he sat up on his hospital bed. Tubes and wires were still plugged into him, machines nearby still monitoring his vitals, which had just spiked.

“Hey there, partner- 'ey now.”

Jesse's voice comes into focus, and blue eyes soon prime themselves upon the gunslinger, who had up until this point, never come to his bedside before. In fact, Jesse and Jack were barely able to tolerate each other when Gabriel wasn't in the room. And Gabriel was no where to be seen.

Slowly the memories come back into focus, and Jack's head begins to throb with pain.

“Ah, yeah. The medicine. They said that might happen. Just take it slow and calm down... They said you'd have a lot of questions and-”

“What _happened_ , McCree?” Jack growls, his voice raspy and sharp, harsh and painful.

Jesse sighs and reaches over to grab a glass of water that had been kept nearby.

“Slow, I said. Take a drink. I'll tell you everything you need to know.” The man advised, holding the glass out and up to Jack's lips. Jack made the attempt to raise his hand to take it, but his muscles refused to obey him beyond a few trembles before falling back once more. He looked down at himself, then to the glass Jesse was still holding. Reluctantly, he took a drink and swallowed it down with a heavy sigh.

“That's it. Now just be slow... Those ain't goin' to be real responsive right away. You've just come out of it, Jack. Give yourself time.”

“Talk to me, Jesse. Why can't I feel my leg?”

“Nerve damage. It'll come back. You're lucky they were able to save that one at all. The other wasn't damaged as bad... But you ain't going to be walking for a couple more weeks at least. You'll need some physical therapy-”

“ _Christ._ ” Jack utters. “Gabe? Where is he? Is he...?” Jack's eyes scanned the medbay, but he found himself alone, and he was looking back at Jesse, who looked more heartbroken than Jack had ever seen him. The cowboy looked down and swallowed a hard lump in his throat, clearing it with a cough.

“He ain't here, Jack. But he's alive... But he ain't here.”

His tone was upsetting, because Gabriel _not_ being here meant that things had gone terribly bad. He'd either been forced to flee, or he'd been taken.

“Tell me everything.” Jack insisted.

 

And Jesse did.

Jesse told him everything from Jack's rescue to Gabe's near disappearance in Colorado. He told him about the confrontation here on base, and what the UN had decided what would happen to him.

 

“A few of us tried to fight for him, see... But... He wouldn't let us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said that Overwatch needed to exist, and that was only going to happen if they cooperated. So... So he gave himself over. He let them take him, Jack.”

“ _Where?_ ” Jack suddenly demanded, and Jesse shook his head, shrugging.

“They refused to tell us. They were afraid that we might try to attempt some kind of rescue. They couldn't have that, you see, so they are keeping it top secret.” The way the man spoke set a deep, unspoken dread into Jack. It was all so very... Pass-tense. So set in stone.

 

“How long ago was that, Jesse?” Jack hesitantly asked.

“... Two months, Jack.”

 

Two months. Jack had been in a coma for two months. Gabe had been in prison for two months.

 

“... And Overwatch?”

“Still here, as you can well see. But, the UN has their fingers in everything we do. They watch _everything._ Every move. Every mission. Every hallway, every room. Even the restrooms got appointed guards in 'em...”

“They don't trust us anymore.”

“No.”

“We have to find out where they are keeping him.”

“Reckon that's why they don't trust us, Jack.” Jesse says, moving to stand. “But I've gotta go. I promised someone that I'd meet them for lunch. Don't you try to move or nothin' yet, alright? I know you're eager. We all are.”

Worry runs waves through Jack's form, and he looks down at his hands idly.

“Oh... There's somethin' else.” Jesse says as he stops at the door. He looks back at the old Soldier. “Somethin' Gabe said before he let them take him.”

“Hm?” Jack grunts, looking back at him.

 

“He said, He would have said _yes._ ”

 

Pain blossoms into Jack's heart like a lead hammer.

 

“ _He remembered..._ ” Jack whispers quietly to himself. As his eyes start to glaze, he looks down. “Thank you, Jesse.” he replies as a way of dismissing the gunslinger, not feeling open to sharing his emotions in front of him.

 

Everything in Overwatch had become a sort of game they all had to play. It was a game that Jesse and Sombra had mastered more quickly than the others. Jaelen had caught on quickly enough, and though the facade they all carried wasn't everyone's favorite, it was effective at keeping the lurking UN at bay.

“ _Hola, Carino._ ” The hacker said towards the Cowboy in a sultry, lewd sort of manner. It was faked, of course. It had to be.

“Well look at you, Sweetheart. Ready for lunch?”

“As much as I'm going to be,” She purred, but between them the joke was obvious. The idea that they'd ever actually be together was more laughable to them than anyone ever could have imagined. So, to lunch they went, and carried on what looked to be a convincing date.

They could barely stand each other beyond their missions, and Jesse very obviously had his affections tied up somewhere else, but for the time being, this would suffice. It was a shroud to cover what they were doing... That was, trying to find Gabriel. At the end of their small lunch date, he walked her back to her workplace like a true gentleman. The girl turned towards him and leaned into him. They stood in a hallway, arms loosely draped around one another. Pressing a convincing kiss to his cheek, she whispered something, and slipped a hand into his pocket, depositing. “ _Find me later, yes? I have some something special for you._ ” Even the cameras couldn't quite work that out, and so far, only their chambers, specifically, their bathrooms, were left truly private. It was the only way they could talk in confidence with each other without anyone being the wiser. After all, there were no rules against couples within Overwatch, and if two couples disappeared into the same room, no one would bat an eye. As usual, Jesse sucked in a breath and threw on his most pleased smile.

“Whatever you want, girl.” He replied, smirking faintly. Sombra, for a very short moment, looked like she wanted to gag. It was not something the cameras could see, but it made Jesse smirk a little more. She turned then and left, wandering into the tech lab, where she almost exclusively was nowadays, forced to look like she was researching just Talon and its activities... Trying to use what she discovered to find Gabriel.

 

That night, Jesse waits inside his room for Sombra to arrive, his eyes going over and over the small, folded item she'd slipped to him earlier... It was a photograph, and not one that he liked.

 

Alcatraz.

 

A small buzz at the comm of his room lets him know she's arrived, and quickly, he invites her in with a fake, fleeting kiss before shutting the door abruptly behind her. There are cameras in each and everyone's main living rooms, so they have to fake it to the bedroom, where Sombra suddenly jerks her jacket back up from where he had nudged it off.

As usual, she places a small device just inside the door that will emit a false signal to interrupt any audio the camera catches, disguising it for something far more... Intimate. That should deter anyone from trying to eavesdrop.

“So what's the gig?” Jesse asks as he leans against his dresser, arms crossed, cigar suddenly lit and between his lips. Sombra is across the room, sitting against his nightstand, looking at him across the dim red gleam that envelope's the gunslinger's room. As was to be expected, his theme had been fairly western, with hints of a red desert and a far, blue sky. Brown tones overtake the furniture and decorum along the walls reminds any onlookers of the variety of wildlife that exists in the harshness of Death Valley- blooming cacti, dangerous but gorgeous snakes and other critters, a few birds. It's a nice balance that doesn't give off the look or odor of a spittoon, which she half expected on her first arrival here. She had complimented him on it at the time, but now she was all business.

“You saw the photo.”

“Sure I did, but it don't tell me much. This hell hole's been closed for over a century, Olivia. You can't possibly think he's there.”

“Where _else_ could he be, McCree? Think about it. They wont tell us where he is, and they sure as hell don't want anyone else to know either. It isn't public, do you know why?-”

“Because people would-”

“ _Exactly_.” She interrupts. “The world isn't ready for Reaper to be a hero, Jesse. And he has taken so many lives that if they imprisoned him somewhere that was easy for people to reach, they would reach him. They would do whatever they could to kill him. Moreover, the island is almost entirely unwired. It's so off the grid that if it wasn't for its history, no one would _even_ know it was there. It's the perfect place to hide him from us, and from the world. They want us to think it's abandoned. Inhospitable... And they want Talon to think that too. They're looking for him... I am almost certain of it.”

“How're you sure of that?”

“Do you know how Talon stealth works, McCree? No. Of course not,” she muses at him. “Basically, Talon ships are all tracked with a certain frequency. Government ships and civilian ships are all marked with similar, specific frequencies to denote who they are, and these frequencies don't stop. Talon ships however... They stop as soon as the ship enters stealth. It turns them into ghosts. However, in order for Talon to keep track of their own men, they have to... _Flicker_ now and again, I suppose. It's a very small, barely noticeable signature that gives them away for a very brief second. If you didn't know what it was, you would think it was nothing more than radio interference, or a signal gone astray... And if you didn't know where to look for them to occur, you might never see the signals at all... But I have found them, all leaving and arriving at locations where Talon Hubs are, and used to be. They're looking for him... And they're looking everywhere. They're hunting him. We have to find him first.”

“If they can't find him, isn't it a good thing to let him stay hidden? Wouldn' that be safer?” Jesse argues vaguely, trying to understand.

“You suddenly don't want to save him?” Sombra asks.

“I ain't said anythin' like that at all... I'm just sayin'... The man turned himself in. If we break him out, we ruin all that. We put him, and us, back in the jeopardy he saved us from. You know, we coulda gone with him. They could have roped you, me and Carter in for tryin'a escape with him, but they didn't. He didn't tell 'em that. He's carryin' this weight.”

“And what do you suppose they're doing to him there, Jesse? Do you know what used to happen on Alcatraz? Do you want to even want to think about what happens there now? They closed down the last tourist attractions twenty five years ago... Don't you wonder _why?_ ” Sombra crosses the room, standing in front of him, ignoring the burning cherry of his cigar as it shifts around in front of her. Eventually he plucks it away and breathes the smoke elsewhere. “What do you think is going to happen to him if Talon reaches him, Jesse? Do you think he's going to fight them? Do you think he'll have a chance, before the pump him full of the drugs that turned him into that monster in the first place? He won't remember _any_ of us by the time they're done. He wont even remember his name. He may not even know the difference between the man and the beast.” She shakes her head. “We can't let that happen. We have to do something, and fast.”

Jesse looks down, and eventually nods. “Jack just woke up today. I'm sure you heard. I'll find a way to talk to him. We'll figure something out...”

“I... I may have a plan, but you're not going to like it.”

“ _Christ almighty, Olivia. What now?_ ”

Sombra smirked faintly.

 

 

Widowmaker sat in the back of a dimly lit room, her rifle in hand being cleaned and prepped for the thousandth time. She needed it to keep her mind occupied. She needed it to satisfy her rage. She had been alone and quiet now for some hours. She should have been sleeping, but she couldn't. Talon is always quiet at night, even when there were still interrogations going on somewhere... Not ones she was in, obviously.

When the sound comes, it's faint, and she barely notices it, and at once, her golden eyes steer towards the door. It was locked before, but she had heard the motor, as if someone had tried to trigger it from outside, but there was no one there- at least, not that she could see from the light under the doorway. At once, she gets up, setting down her gun and moving towards the door, peering through a small peephole... The hallway is dim, but well enough lit that she can tell no one's there. A small, thoughtful hum leaves her before she turns her back to the door.

Her eyes are immediately assaulted by a bright, purple light. Sombra sits in her chair across the room where she had been... Not the hacker herself, but a hologram. Where it's even coming from, Widowmaker has no idea. She takes half a step like she's going to lunge for her rifle, but Sombra raises a hand.

“Not so fast, Spider. Let's sit and talk a while, shall we?”

“ _Why should I speak to you, traitor? You're not even here..._ ”

Sombra laughs. “No. No, you're right. I'm not. How would I have even gotten in? Still... I wanted to make sure we wouldn't be... Interrupted. I'm no threat to you, anyway. We both know that out of the two of us, you're... Well... Let's just say I wouldn't trust myself to make the shot we both know you could.”

“... _What are you talking about?_ ” Widow growls.

“Let's stop playing games. You and I both know that Talon is hunting Reaper.”

“ _You knew he was alive- you knew, and kept him safe. You betrayed us-_ ”

“Mmm, Overwatch was paying well, Lacroix. We all know who's side I'm on.”

“ _Your own. Pathetic little witch._ ”

“Oh _please._ Let's not resort to name calling. I'm here with a deal.” Another deal.

“ _More blackmail?_ ” Widow hisses venomously, and the hacker laughs.

“Not quite.”

Widow is tempted to ask how she got herself in here- how she projected herself into the room, and why? Was this just another distraction? Without Jinx to block the hacker, Widow could guess that it was easy enough for the hacker to get in and do as she pleased with their systems... And she would be right.

“What do you want? And why is it that you locked me in?”

“It's not so much locking you in as it is locking your _boyfriend_ out.” Sombra said, smirking wickedly. Widow felt her hands tighten into fists. She hated the title, the even minor implication that Akande meant _anything_ to her... Anything at all. On some level, she knew he was using her, and yet, she did not care. It was a distraction to her pain. And yet, Sombra knew about that, too. It disgusted her. “Anyway,” Sombra continues. “I suppose you can say that you and I have a common enemy. I want us to help each other out.”

“ _Why would I help you out?!_ ” Widow gasps incredulously.

“Because,” The holographic hacker says quickly, “You want Reaper dead _too_.”

 

_What._

 

What?

 

What did that even mean?

 

“You risked yourself to save him from Talon, you wretch. You can't honestly expect me to think that you now mean to kill him as well.”

“Do you even know where he is right now, Widow?”

“... Not yet... But it is only a matter of time. Answer me: why would you want him dead, and why do you need _me_ to help you? Why can't you use your _pathetic_ little _Overwatch_ to help you, hm?”

“Overwatch does not want him dead, Lacroix... All they see in Gabriel is the heroic, powerful man he used to be. They don't see what he's become. They don't see that even now, by leaving them behind to server some _higher purpose_ that he has betrayed them-”

“ _What? What higher purpose? What are you talking about?_ ”

“Oh... That's right. Sorry, I forgot. Without your Jinx to feed you information, you have no idea what's going on, do you? You've been looking for him, but in all the wrong places. Overwatch does not have Reaper anymore, see. Oh no... No...” She laughs. “The UN gave them an ultimatum... Hand him over, or hand over the rights to legality... He, being the _hero_ he thinks he is, turned himself in. They have him imprisoned somewhere- he's been there two months now, and no one has been able to find him... No one, because Overwatch is more or less... Grounded. The UN wont let them do anything- or me, for that matter. It's why I couldn't do our little... _Rendezvous_ in person. You see... I helped Gabriel, I helped Overwatch... And he betrayed them, and then me. He helped them steal your hacker away from you, didn't he? How else do you think Jinx got away so easily?”

 

Sombra used a casual tone and facts blended with lies to make her story seem credible.

 

“So tell me, Widow... What do you think Overwatch did with me, now that they have a new, shinier, more calculated model Hacker in their hands? Someone more... Trustworthy than I am?”

“ _They replaced you?_ ” Widow seems skeptical.

“All but dismissed me. They think I want to go home to some quiet town in Mexico to live out the rest of my... Worthless life.” She said, making a small dismissive gesture with her fingers. “After all I've done to help them... Remind you of someone?”

“So.” Widow says, straightening up, the twitch of a smirk finding the corners of her mouth. “The little _bitch_ finally got what she deserved... _Mon Dieu, it's almost amusing._ ”

“That must be an achievement for you, Lacroix. Word is that you don't feel anything anymore. Not like what Reaper made you feel for a few minutes, right before he abandoned you to your death... Still, I imagine that it helps with handling Akande-”

“ _Enough._ ” Widow snaps hideously, pacing across the room, snatching up her rifle as though the weight of it will comfort her, despite knowing she can't kill Sombra wit it here and now. “So now you want revenge. You want to kill Reaper because he did the same thing to you, and your little clan, just as he did me, and Talon. What exactly do you need me for, again?”

“As I said, I'm grounded. We all are. They're watching our every move... But not yours. I have a suspicion as to where they are keeping Reaper, but I have no way of confirming it... I want you to go there and find out for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust you to plant the device I need for the scan.”

“And you do not trust Akande with this?”

“Doomfist only knows how to bring down buildings, Lacroix. You and I both know there is no subtlety in the man. If you want to be able to kill him yourself, you will have to do it without Talon knowing.”

 

Except that Talon already knew Widowmaker planned to kill him, because they had given her the contract to do exactly that...

And ultimately, she had accepted it, leaving the Chateaux for another time.

These details caused a small, fleeting smirk to dash across her features again.

 

“Very well, little hacker. I will play this game with you. Tell me where you think that he is. I will go there, and place your device. Then, we can have our revenge together. What happens after that?”

“You go back to Talon a victor, and I disappear into the world with my satisfaction. Overwatch crumbles from the inside out without their golden-boy to keep them aloft, because Morrison will be nothing after Gabriel's death. Talon wins, and you get what you want.” Sombra deduced quietly. “I suspect that they are holding him off the coast of California... Alcatraz, to be specific.”

 

Widowmaker's smile grew.

“The _abandoned_ prison? How hilariously fitting.” She mused. “I will go there and find him. How do I get your device, and how do I contact you?”

“I have to contact you, but the device will be waiting for you on the island. I will direct you to it once you arrive. When do you intend to leave?” Sombra asks.

“...Two days. I will have to make up an excuse for departing, to Talon.” Except, this too was a lie. Widow intended to tell Akande and Talon _everything_ she'd just learned.

 

The hologram gave a small sort of wave, then disappeared... The two women ended their conversation, oblivious to how thoroughly they had both just played one another.

 

 

“How'd it go?” Jesse asks.

Sombra shrugs at him. “I can't be for certain, but I'm almost positive it'll work.”

“How do you know she won't actually kill him?”

“Jesse, please. What do you take me for? She will attack him- of course she will. She hates every fiber of him right now- I made sure of it. She'll go there, use my tech to confirm he's there... And then in all likelihood, she'll attack him. When she does, the UN will realize that keeping him there is an unsafe solution. Then, if Jack keeps up his end of the deal, they'll be pressured to move him to a more public place. A place with too many eyes for them to execute him without anyone knowing.”

“Do you think that's what they're doing to him on Alcatraz?” Jesse sounds concerned.

“I don't know. Maybe. No one really knows what's going on there, after all, right? He needs to be in a place that will keep him safe, not hidden.”

“Talon won't rightly stop the attack just because he's somewhere public.”

“No, but it means that they will be forced to handle his case legally... And We can make a case for him. All of this is to buy us time, Jesse. We could have the proof we need to free him in a matter of weeks. Days, maybe.”

“Days... I doubt that. If it was that easy, it'd be done already, wouldn' it?”

“I... Somehow doubt that's how science works. Anyway... Did you talk to Jack?”

“I did. Says that as soon as he's able to walk and talk a little better, he's going to start fighting the UN for him.”

“...So he's going to come forward as Jack, then?”

“They already know he's Jack... But he's going to join the cause, officially. Publicly. So that if the 'watch goes down, he goes with it. He ain't ever going to stop fighting for Gabe. But it could take time. He's hurt pretty bad. Wounds like his don't heal overnight. The coma was just the first part. His muscles have deteriorated somewhat, and the doc's say he might take a few weeks just to get around again.”

“Something tells tells me that a limp isn't going to keep Jack from doing as he pleases.” She murmurs in response, and Jesse laughs.

“ _Ain't that the fuckin' truth._ ” The gunslinger sighs.

 

 

 

Another day in the black abyss passes for Gabriel, who strays into the unconscious realm of daydreams. He struggles to find sleep, and often times, he cannot tell the difference if he's awake or not. The only thing that seems to keep him alert now and then is his hearing, sense of smell when the air changed, and the constant feel of gravity pulling him into the cold stone floor beneath him. To pass the time, he goes over and over his memories, each time trying to pry each one for a little more detail than the last time he accessed it. The meditation taught to him by Genji seems to help him here, and he finds quiet... He finds peace slowly with the darkness... With the realization that he will starve to death in this cell...

That scared him at first...

But now?

Not it seemed fitting. It almost seemed just.

Gabriel had felt sorrow before, but little could that compare to what he felt now.

 

He began to simply consider abandoning his efforts to feed himself off of the paste that was delivered to him... What could it do, he thought, but delay the inevitable?

 

Alas. The inevitable was going to come for him, instead.

 

There was a faint whirring, the activating of now familiar motors that had become almost as monotone as the deafening quiet of the cell itself. The vents overhead open suddenly, drenching Gabriel from where he sits on the floor, soaking his hair and every inch of his exposed person in some kind of soapy concoction of chemicals. By now, Gabe has learned to close his eyes and stop breathing for a few moments as the stink of the harsh substances fills the chamber. Seconds later, a frigid downpour coats over him, making him gasp and shudder into the darkness, his claws hugging close against his arms as his arms wrap around his knees.

Seconds after that, he hears another set of motors, also familiar, that cause him to pinch his eyes shut tight and cower away from the far wall. As expected, the slat in the window opens, forcing in a rush of hot pacific air, scented of salt with the very faint cry of seagulls. Fan's wheeze into life as the air from his chamber is sucked out and replaced with the air of the outside vent. The light isn't much, but it makes his vision positively ache, and his pupils struggle to adapt to what little light pours through the back of his shut eyelids.

 

But this time, air is not all that slips in.

 

A small item, similar in shape and weight to that of a cherry petal drifts down through the vent, landing in the room near his feet, almost immediately getting suctioned against the wet floor. Gabriel might not have seen it at all, if his eyes hadn't opened to the sudden flash of bright magenta light that suddenly erupted from the small, paper-thin chip. He utters a sound of alarm, then staggers back against the side of his cell, almost immediately afraid. There on the floor, the small device glows, a webbed design spanning out around it before it sparks, then burns itself up entirely. Gabriel can't help but to feel the static shock that has rolled through the air.

_Sombra._

 

He knows without a second question that this was something of her making. Something small, easy to disguise as mere debris, something that would destroy itself after its job was done. She was looking here... For him. And now, he presumed, she had found him.

 

Hope blossomed within Gabriel, and he staggered to a stand as quickly as he could, struggling to bring himself up to the barely open vent. The light burned his eyes so intensely that he gasped, and struggled to hold his footing...

 

The moment his eyes met the outside, Gabriel felt the hot kiss of a bullet.

 

Pain radiated suddenly through his temple, and blood began to pour down from the wound quickly, blurring one eye. He flew back with the impact of the sniper's shot, landing on the floor, howling in pain. From here, Gabriel couldn't tell how bad the wound was, but that he was alive and conscious was a good sign. The sound of the shot still rung in his ears, and nearby, he could see the smoking hole where the shot had landed... It was almost perfectly aimed... It had to have been a long shot, and not one easy to make... But he knew the look and shape of those rounds anywhere, even after they were spent. Few weapons in the world could shoot the ammo that Widowmaker carried, and something told him that she was here, herself.

Then, his suspicions would be confirmed as another, more angled shot only seconds after the first would ricochet into the chamber, bending the small slot of the air shaft and hitting Gabriel in the shoulder and making him scream as he felt it lodge firmly against the bone. Normally, Gabriel could simply wraith out of the injury, or at least away from the attack, but here, he was clearly trapped... And Widowmaker intended to make full use of that.

Alarms had already begun going off in the facility, though he could barely hear them, he knew they were loud by the simple fact that he could even hear them in this little death chamber of his. Scrambling, Gabe did the only thing he could, throwing himself against the wall closest to the now dented vent, which spewed a ray of sunlight into the chamber, trying to make it harder for the sniper to reach him.

It wasn't long after that that he heard the echoing shots of return-fire, the lift-off of ships nearby meant to circle and entrap the sniper. Before he could properly listen in to the battle, the door to his room suddenly began to grate and grind against itself before a heavy, clicking thud was heard, and eventually it sunk outward, away from him, and began to slide free, exposing a dull grey hallway beyond, and the muzzles of three loaded rifles.

“MOVE!” They barked at him. They were wearing the same dark blue colors that the Warden had been, and the woman who had taken him in in the first place- a name he never quite got to know. And suddenly, he was obeying, moving wordlessly down the hallway as they shoved at him, their guns prodding against his back, ignoring his wounds despite that Gabe couldn't help but feel them. His temple bled down the side of his face, dripping off of his bearded chin and trailing on the floor behind them as he was ushered along. Before the man could properly comprehend what was happening or what rooms he was being pushed through, he had been forced out onto a defunct helicopter pad, which now held what looked to be a small escort jet, not too unlike the ones that Overwatch used, but very clearly worked for the UN. As his one clean eye adjusted to the light, he finally managed a glimpse at the surrounding area, quietly marveling at the feel of actual fresh, rushing air on his skin, regardless how salty it was. Then, his eye landed on the edge of the platform upon which they stood, and his eyes shot towards the blue horizon, and he chanced and glance backwards- over the rest of the building.

Alcatraz.

He knew it without anyone even needing to tell him. His generation had grown up learning in history classes the kind of atrocities had been committed here, and how, allegedly, it had been closed off for decades now. Out of use for over a century, and yet here he was, imprisoned... Tortured? He had to wonder if this counted as torture. And the UN had done this. How coincidental was it, he thought, that Sombra's tech had been here, in use, seconds before Widowmaker had attacked him?

Sombra was here.

Widow was here.

 

…. Had Sombra somehow followed her here?

Or... Were the working together? Was that possible? To what end? Surely, Sombra didn't want him dead...

And yet, she had been the one to orchestrate his near-escape with Rosa...

 

She was trying to save him. This had all been part of her plan. Somehow, she had known or perhaps suspected he would be here. Was that what she was doing here? Using Widowmaker to cause a scene?

And a scene she had indeed made, which meant she knew, and had it... Likely, recorded it. The girl was insightful, but could she really be so bold as to blackmail the UN into releasing him? No... No it couldn't be that simple.

 

Before his thoughts could finish themselves, Gabe was shoved onto the small escort in question, and seconds later, someone began, almost reluctantly, tending to his injuries. It had been a while since Gabe had known that stitches felt like, and getting them again wasn't exactly something he'd ever been looking forward to. However, the cuffs stayed on. Even now, as weak as he was, they didn't trust him enough to let him try to heal himself.

Could he even do that, he wondered? If the cuffs were off, would his nanites even be strong enough to undo the damage that Widowmaker had done in just the last few minutes?

But even now, as he sat here being tended, something within him stirred. Hunger. The nanites could _smell_ the people nearby to him, and though they were kept at bay, the urge to lose control and simply rip into one of them with his bare teeth was a tempting one. Somehow, he knew it would work... After all, all it needed to do was get into his system right? Gabriel forced himself to look away from the woman tending to him. He wasn't some kind of vampiric monster. He deserved this, after all.

 

Hours later, he was in a new place. Some new facility in some other prison that was undisclosed to him. He was bathed, shaved, and cleaned up. The attack on Alcatraz had drawn so much media attention that the UN had had no choice but to warrant a press release. They openly denied any suspicions that they might be torturing people there, or that anyone was- besides Gabriel- being kept there at all. He was only there for safety, they insisted, which was largely true. Though, his own safety hadn't really been part of their concern at the time, he realized. Sombra kept every little ounce of evidence she had captured, but carefully locked it away, preventing anyone from knowing she had been involved... Just in case things got too out of control, she insisted, _there is no such thing as too much ammo, my friend._

 

The UN, keen on keeping itself as a driving force for justice in the world, launched its own investigation, done largely by multiple individual countries. Though it was sure to take months, Alcatraz's decommission was inevitable... And those in charge of seeing that Gabe, and who knew who else, had been sent there, would be removed from their station. Two birds with one stone, it would seem. That was just Sombra's style, and now, the UN sat on equal balance with Overwatch in the grand scope of the public eye. People didn't trust Overwatch, and now, they didn't trust the UN...

Which meant that the two companies would _have_ to work together to repair their reputations...

 

It wasn't a foolproof solution, but it was a step in the direction Sombra wanted.

 

They needed a reason for the world to see _why_ they needed them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! Sorry this is a few hours late! I hope you don't mind the extra twelve doses of angst in this chapter! Please let me know if you find any spelling errors, thanks guys!
> 
> Also as a reminder, we have a discord!  
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	43. Together

Talon was not pleased. Not only had Widow failed her mission to assassinate Reaper, but she had also managed to make them move Reaper to a different, more secure, more protected facility... It was somewhere more public, they knew, but none had said where, and none intended to. Sombra had used her- wholly and entirely. Sombra, being the little witch that she was, had played on Lacroix's emotions and rage like a fiddle, a woman with her strings on everyone. Widow should have known she could not be trusted, and now, more than ever, she wanted the little hacker dead, and Reaper with her.

 

Their search for him continued.

 

And so did the attacks.

Talon decided to punish the world for interfering with what they were calling their own, internal sense of justice. Akande even tried to plea that they wanted the same thing... That the world wanted, and needed Reaper dead... And that Talon intended to make sure that happened. Every week, terrorist attacks landed in random locations around the globe, making it so that almost no one wanted to leave their homes... Unless they were in cities, in which case, almost no one wanted to stay there. More and more, the search continued... But Reaper remained elusive.

 

But then something... _Else_... began to happen.

 

“What is this?” Doomfist says offhandedly to Moira and Widowmaker as the stand nearby to him in a Talon hub. They're watching a feed of an attack not far from Mexico city. The when and the where mattered very little to them, however...

“I can't say I know,” Moira replied smoothly next to him. Her attitude to make her seem confident and assured at all times didn't fill the man with any trust. She should be concerned, like he and Amelie were...

Because the attack they watched now- black-clothed insurgents, soldiers wearing Talon garb, Talon insignias... Were not Talon at all.

“I did not order this. The _council_ did not order this.”

“Perhaps they did, and they simply chose _not_ to tell you.” Widowmaker murmurs beside him, and the dark man growls almost violently.

“ _They wouldn't dare._ ”

“It's that, or we're dealing with an inside group of our own.”

“Why would _anyone_ want to take it upon themselves, _within_ Talon to organize and then carry out attacks without our command, or without the command of the council?” Doomfist argued.

“I though you _were_ the council?” Widow almost seemed to taunt. Before they could get into an argument, Moira raised a hand, efficiently silencing the two.

“You're both missing a very likely third option.” She said almost gently, watching the screen. The two looked over at her, expecting an explanation. She smirked faintly. “Impersonators... All of these fighters are omnics... Talon hasn't employed nearly this many in years.”

“You think that omnics are behind this?” Widow questions suddenly.

“I can't say... I do not know what cause omnics would have to engage themselves like this.”

“Does it _matter_ why?” Akande asked suddenly. “They're starting the war we wanted _for us_ , but they're starting it under _our_ name! We need to get this situation under control. Now!” The man then stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him out of rage.

 

It left them all wondering the same thing.

 

If it wasn't Talon, and it certainly wasn't some kind of plan of Overwatch's... Who were these new terrorists parading around as them?

 

Jack sat with his head in his hands, staring down at a leg brace that supported his left leg, which had been mostly crushed. No one would even know it now, as it had been so well repaired by skilled hands and medicines even he marveled at. The coma had likely helped to heal him faster, but where it had, his muscles struggled to keep their strength. Katie stood nearby to him, under the shade of a large tree out in the envirodome, working up a sweat. As he glanced towards the entrance to the dome, he could see two UN-hired guards standing watch, observing... As usual.

“We've got to do something, Katie.”

“Yes, Jack. We have to get you walking first.”

“I can walk.” The man said defiantly. “I mean that we have to do something about this. Sombra... Was right.” he growled as a small ache rolled from his thigh up through his spine. She reached over and touched his shoulder.

“I know. I know, Jack. I know you want him back. We all do... But he chose this. He felt like this was the only way, and... Maybe it was.”

“You're _happy_ about this?” Jack hissed, and Katie sighed, drawing her hand away.

“No. Of course not... But I think that this is one of those few times that just maybe things had to get worse before they got better. We were all taking this risk bringing him here. We knew that, and he knows that. We need to give the world a chance to believe the truth once we give it to them, and we don't have it yet.”

“We have enough to make them change their minds. They can't treat him like some kind of beast, Katie. There are _truly_ evil men being treated better right now than he was- and what did it take? It took _Talon_ to get him out of there? No. We need to do something. We need to be able to see him. To talk to him. Someone has to defend him like... Like they would any other human being.”

“That's going to be a hard sell, Jack. I want it too, but people don't see him that way anymore. They don't see him as human. Not even omnic.”

“Maybe they don't, but he's just a man... Flesh and blood like you and me. He made a mistake. A critical mistake, I'll admit, but a human mistake. And he's come back from that. He's willing to fix it, to make it right, and he's trying, goddamnit. They need to give him a chance...”

“... What are you going to do, Jack?”

“I...” The man sighed and shook his head. “I don't know. Angela doesn't want me to go anywhere until I pass her tests... But her tests are made to make me ready for battle. I don't need to be battle-ready to talk to the UN.”

“So you mean to go to them, yourself. Talk to them. Reveal yourself publicly as Morrison? Explain everything? And then what, Jack? Why do you think that would make them change their minds?”

“Beg.” he uttered shortly. “Beg them to just look around them. To look at what we've done so far to help them- and what _he_ has helped us do. To trust us the way they once did. To understand why we took this risk. To give us the time to make our case.”

“You think it'll work?”

“I'm not going to sit by and do nothing. I'm not going to sit by and _not_ fight for him, Katie. The reason he left... Was so that we could keep fighting. And they... They tortured him- they might STILL be torturing him. I'm not going to let that happen, even if I have to... To _disappear_ again.”

“... That's not a good idea. Especially not one you want to say in front of the surveillance crews lurking over there.”

“They can't hear us- and they couldn't stop me if they tried to. Even like this, I'm _still_ more than those _boys_ can handle.” He growled, forcing himself up to a stand with renewed strength and determination. Katie chuckled at him and smiled.

“There's the Soldier I know. You ready to try jogging again?”

“Maybe we could just... Walk. Briskly?” He asked with a hint of a smile and she laughed again, and off they went. And Surveillance teams watched them the entire while... In every room, every hallway, even in the command center.

 

Three weeks pass, and Gabriel has begun to feel sick. He's in a new facility now, recovering slowly, barely. It's well lit, in a way that almost stings his eyes, which have been kept in the dark for so long that it still hurts him in brightly lit rooms with no way to heal. There were cameras in every corner of the room, and windows at about the height of his shoulder that reached the ceiling on either side of the room, looking in on his cell. It had a bed, a small wash basin, a shower and a toilet. There was a small overhanging ledge near the window with a built-in comm device... For visitors... But he'd had none yet, and he knew why. There was a door at one end of the cell- much like a vault. He knew it was thick and almost completely solid with locks and mechanics by the way that no sound slipped through it- none... There were no cracks. No vents. No openings, anywhere.

 

This cell, he realized, had been built specifically for him. It still had that faint odor of new paint, which suggested they had completed it in something of a rush. Perhaps it hadn't been done when Widowmaker attacked him three weeks ago? The wound in his shoulder can be seen easily now, as he has not been given a shirt, but only a pair of pants to keep himself decent. His hair is still long, uncut, but they shave his face once a week. It was a process now that he was used to, despite that he did not remember how it was done specifically. The room filled with a gas when it was time, putting him to sleep through some unseen mechanism, and when he woke again, it was hours later, and he was clean shaven once more. As for food, a tray not unlike what he would have gotten in a shoddy cafeteria was delivered with a dull spoon three times a day... So that, finally, the UN could prove they were treating him properly... But Gabe barely ate. He barely moved. It was becoming a struggle to do that much, and trying to speak left his throat raw and in pain... And no one would listen anyway. Almost no one would even look at him. It wasn't hard to see why. He was pale, a sack of scarred white and black skin, eyes of pitch black with rings of red, black claws on both hands and feet... No smoke. None. The nanites were working hard now just to keep him alive, and there was absolutely no room for excess. Even his muscle had begun to shrink, feeding upon itself to keep him running...

And it was obvious to everyone outside the walls of his cell, inside that prison with him.

 

In his hunger, it is easy for Gabriel to get lost- to let his mind take him away to somewhere else, to another time and another place, somewhere in his past that he has lost. And now, it would take him somewhere new.

 

~

 

Death. It was cold, and it hurt. Everything hurt. There was a throbbing within Reaper that he had known only a few times in his life before. This... This half-life that some kind of bizarre science had brought him. Reaper... A creature that had saved Gabriel more than once now... A creature that had kept him safe and lead him to greatness. Reaper... Who could see the true betrayal of Jack Morrison and what his _kind_ had done to Gabriel Reyes... And they would pay with their lives... Sooner or later. It was just a matter of time. The box they had thrust him into, hardly that of some kind of hero, just as he suspected. There were wounds all over his body, old now by the way they looked... Yet, not scars. No, his body had not yet healed the way it needed to...

...Reaper needed to feed. He knew that as easily as he knew to breathe, or to walk...

And to feed, he needed to get out of this box. At first, he thought to simply use his shadows to repair himself and back his raw, brute strength as he had before... Multiple times, while Gabriel _slept._ It was his time of outlet. His time of feeding and... Experimentation.

SEP had given him things that had helped him stay alive, and Reaper had always wanted to know how far they could go. Moira had given him form... And voice. She had made it possible for him, though even she was completely oblivious to how far her experiments had gone. Reaper had started as a mercenary. He worked where he wished, when it suited him, moving easily from place to place, killing and feeding, earning next to nothing... Most of the time, the kill was all he had needed. Deadlock, Los Muertos... Those were easy names to please. They always needed someone taken care of, and they were easy to reach regardless how far away Switzerland had been... Those gangs were everywhere. Most gangs worth knowing by name were everywhere. He'd been feeding off of them for years now, usually covered head to toe, with nothing but a mask... A mask he had adopted the idea from somewhere deep in Gabe's history. An owl. How he got it, and where, he no longer remembered, but it had become iconic and no one he had seen questioned his identity upon seeing it.

His hands reached up, eyes narrowing in the darkness of the pit, glowing black and red eyes showing him some of his situation... They had dressed him up in a suit- one of his own. But... There was something different. Something... S _trange_ about his body. He had claws... _Claws_. He could tell that they were new by the way his body ached. Claws. Why? He'd never had claws before.

But then, it was obvious, wasn't it?

Reaper smirked at himself. There was a box he was trapped in, and six feet of dirt above that.

_Dig._

 

And he did. He clawed his way upwards, bit by bit, feverish and enraged, ready to have the revenge on those responsible for what had become of his legacy. Those who had taken the rewards of his achievements would pay for their theft.

 

But first, he was going to get rid of this suit. A suit was meant for a man.

Reaper wasn't a man. Not anymore. They had turned him into this thing, so they would see him for what he was- for what they said he was, and had labeled him every day.

 

A monster. A sick creature. A beast, fit for a cage.

 

But Reaper would not be caged. He would take up his weapons and equip this malevolent facade and retake what was his.

Armor would help.

 

Something about one of the last things Moira had said to him before she left stuck in his mind. More fitting, darker armor, locked somewhere away in the base that he had blown up. It was a start, anyway. It wasn't until he reached the surface of his would-be prison that he was met by a heavy headstone blocking his path. For a moment, he struggled against it unable to get around it...

But suddenly, a new strength surged within him, unlike any he had ever felt before. The shadow erupted out of him, fuming from his very wounds, rushing outwards and into everything around him. He howled in fury, for the first time noticing his fangs. The nanites had done this to keep him alive... Just as they had done all those years ago... But now? Now... It was _him._ Now, he couldn't go back. This was what he had become. He _commanded_ them, and they _obeyed_ him with the loyalty that many of his Blackwatch kin had shown him. They would have their revenge, too... They would be allowed the chance for the world to know who they were in a way that Overwatch forbade.

 

He emerged, covered in dirt, fuming and dark, an abyssal black mass of a creature, glaring down at his headstone... All his ranks... Followed by the words “ _Beloved Brother and Soldier._ ”

 

Seeing it filled him with hatred.

 

Reaper destroyed the monument, slashing it viciously with his claws and then kicking it so hard that it cracked and fell backwards. As for the vacant grave? Abandoned. He was off to find his weapons and gear.

 

Then, his vendetta would begin.

 

~

 

The wraith jerked awake in his prison cell, eyes falling upon the distant door as he sat on his bed. His body shook slightly, as it always did these days.

Realization fell on him like a lead weight.

 

They had said that someone had vandalized his grave and stolen his body.

Talon had done it, they said. But now, he knew better...

 

Reaper had gotten him out of that grave. He'd somehow come alive in that pit of darkness and broken the headstone. He had thrown away that life himself in some kind of blinded, drugged haze of sickness. Moira had done it to him, and she didn't even _realize_ it. Moreover, the understanding that Gabriel had been fighting, and killing, for _years_ before the fall... It shocked him, and made his body shake all the more, knowing he'd been killing in some kind of day sleep... For people he _loathed_. For people he had been fighting against for _years._

 

 _Reaper_ himself had existed for years...

 

 

And now, he was starving to death.

And the UN knew it.

 

“We need to talk.” Sylvia Ratcherford. She was the UN's hired lackey, the one who they'd sent to _collect_ Gabriel. A sort of legal, international bounty hunter. Her legal title? International UN Legal Enforcer and Asset Retainer. It wasn't a long stream of words that anyone was likely to remember, ever. Her words were sharp almost as much as her features, and though Jack wanted to forget her face, he somehow doubted that he would.

“I wasn't made aware of a visitation today, Miss Ratcherford.” Winston growls from his seat in the command center's briefing room.

“The UN is not required to alert you, Winston.” She refused to address him by his rank in Overwatch, seeming to emphasize that the organizations entire legality was in the hands of the UN. Jack, who stood nearby, almost growled with her insolence.

“ _Say what you have to say and move out, Bounty Hunter._ ” He snapped.

Her eyes glued onto the old Soldier, glanced down at his braced leg, and then back up to his face, as if she had assessed his threat level and found it lacking. Everything about this woman made Jack livid.

“Reaper is dying. The rations we have been giving him do not seem to be enough. If you want him to live, you will cooperate with us in keeping him alive.”

That they were trying to keep him alive _at all_ was relieving to Jack.

“With all due respect, we don't even know where you're keeping him,” Ana replied quickly, seeing the sudden rush of concern on Jack's face and trying to speak before his emotion got the better of him. “How can you expect us to help?”

“Can't you simply tell us how to feed him?”

“You don't _honestly_ think it's that simple, do you?” Angela suddenly aid, standing up. Jack looked towards her. It was just the four of them in this room. The others of the core group were apparently 'irrelevant' to this little meeting, according to Racherford, so they hadn't been summoned. “Gabriel's physiology is not like anyone else's in this room! Let alone anyone else you might happen to have _wherever_ you have him! I need to see him. To assess him. You may very well be killing him!” She insisted.

“And how would it benefit us for you to see him? If you don't have a way for us to feed him... We know that Reaper gains some kind of benefit from killing. We've seen it, even if we don't know the... _Sciency_ details.” Racherford said in a somewhat derogatory tone. “Which means that if his only way to feed is for him to kill, that you, Overwatch, have been openly _allowing_ him to do so while he's under your... Protection... That sounds like something that could get your entire organization shut down, don't you think?”

Everyone tensed up, and no one wanted to think of it that way, but, the woman had a point. The world didn't know Gabriel, or how he fed, or how he'd been staying alive all this time... And they would draw their conclusions as they saw fit until a proper explanation was given.

“I have to see him.” Angela said finally. “Tell us where he is, and let us see proof that he is alive and well, and we'll cooperate.”

“The world already doesn't trust the UN for Alcatraz. Do you think that _actually_ torturing and then starving Gabriel to death will do you any good? How will you expect the world to recover, and trust you, if you show them that you can't obey your own laws?” Winston insists.

And this too, was true. The UN needed to prove that they were a trustworthy authority, not only to the involved nations, but to everyone looking up to them to do the right thing.

And letting someone rot in prison until they died of pain and hunger was absolutely _not_ the right thing under any scenario. Especially not to the very select few who believed the media hypothesis that Reaper was working with Overwatch when he saved Jack... Moreso, when the truth about Gabriel's identity came out, and the story behind what happened to him.

When it came out, which was just a matter of time, if it was discovered that the UN had allowed one of the world's heroes to die a hideous, slow death, they would be gutted from the inside out in front of the whole world. The UN would cease to exist, and the world would plunge even further into chaos. Like it or not, they needed to treat Gabriel fairly, even if they didn't want to. Even if they didn't believe that he was who Overwatch said he was... And yet, anyone who had seen his face up close knew beyond question that it was true... So it was only a matter of time.

Racherford stilled in her place, her hands tightening marginally on her hips where they had rested. As if to avoid fidgeting, she crossed her arms and looked down, deliberating. It wasn't her call whether or not the UN accepted the terms, but she would have to relay them regardless.

Finally, she relented.

“Me and my crew will be staying here tonight. I will have an answer for you tomorrow. But remember that every day you delay, Reaper starves... You are right, that the world does not trust us, as much as they do not trust you... But the world also _hates_ Reaper. Many of them also hate Gabriel, even if they _are_ one in the same, there are millions who would not be upset if he died, and who would not care _how_ he died, for that matter. You are playing a dangerous gamble here. We both are, but it isn't my call to make.”

“Very well.” Winston says before anyone else can argue. He knows it's the best chance they have to see and help Gabriel again.

Racherford leaves, and the four of them are left talking about the event between themselves. Sombra has revealed to them all individually the details of what she'd learned about the prison- that was, the one they had moved him from. The conditions he'd been kept in, everything... It was evidence, in case the UN decided not to cooperate after all.

 

The following afternoon, they get their answer.

 

Gabriel's being kept in a secure facility in Northern Dakota, three stories below ground, far out of the line of sight of any snipers. It's a new, private prison. The UN insisted that this was to keep him safe from everyone, including Talon. It's obvious to them now that Reaper has left Talon, though his reasons for doing so are still up in the air.

And, finally, Overwatch is allowed to see him.

 

Jack internally screams with joy, but he's worried. He didn't see what Gabriel looked like after those two months, but he could imagine that if they weren't properly feeding him, it _couldn't_ be good. Would he even look like Gabe anymore? _Would he even look human?_

 

“ _Not you._ ” A guard said as Jack was stopped at the back of the trio- Jesse, Jay and he, as they made their way onto a ship that was meant to take them to see Gabriel. He was ready to go, but now, here on the dusty hangar pad, fingers were pressed against his chest, preventing him from entering. Immediately, anger twisted onto his face and he growled.

“ _What the hell do you-_ ”

“Whoa, there, gents.” Jesse says, suddenly having turned back to the two, standing in the doorway of the ship. “What's all this?” He asks, eyes shifting between Jack and the UN Escort.

The crewman glances back his way and huffs indignantly.

“Morrison is not yet cleared to see the prisoner.”

“ _His name is Reyes._ ” Jack hissed venomously. “And why not? We have permission-”

“ _Actually_ ,” Racherford's voice breaks through the hum of the ship's engine, calling across the distance to them as she approaches. “ _Overwatch_ has permission to see Reaper, Morrison. Last I checked, you were not _officially_ affiliated. You're on your own, aren't you? A _real_ vigilante _hero._ ” She half mocked, looking down at his braced leg again. “You want to save the world, and you almost did, once. Seems to me that you're a lot better at taking pretty pictures and taking the credit from others than you are at _actually_ saving anyone. If you want to see Reaper, you'll have to make yourself public. That is the UN's price, Jack.”

“ _Morrison._ ” he corrects immediately, making it clear that she and he are _not_ in any fashion on a first-name basis.

“Your anonymity or your _friend, Morrison._ Make your choice. If you want to see him, you will have to publicly identify yourself- to the world, not merely the UN, and you will have to make your association with Overwatch public as well. The world will probably expect some kind of... Statement. Then... After that's done, you can see him.”

All of what she had just said sort of settled between them like a lead weight, including Jay, who had come back to the door just behind Jesse. Her hand slightly grazed his shoulder- afraid, though it was rare of the tough woman to show even that much. Everything had gotten so tense now that she barely spoke. Gabriel had become almost family to her, and in the absence of him, Jesse had become her primary company. And suddenly, things were about to become _very_ real.

 

“I'll do it.” Jack suddenly said.

“Whoa- now hold on-” Jesse started, but Jack interrupted him.

“No. It's not an option. I don't care, McCree. Don't you see? I have no choice. This was going to happen sooner or later. Gabriel needs me. I'll do it.” His mind was made up, and it was clear by his tone. No one was convincing him otherwise.

 

Hours later, Jesse and Jay were being escorted into the prison. It was all so sterile and white. The scent of fresh paint assaulted their senses, and the chill in the air left more than just a little heat to be desired. Even this place, with its bright white lights and stale seeming fixtures seemed unwelcoming and abandoned... But there were officials everywhere, strutting around in blue and gold or silver, sharp uniforms, locking mechanisms and pass cards... Weapons. Jesse's spurs clicked so loudly along the halls that guards shot him dirty looks as they passed, as though he was doing it intentionally. Jay glared back at them from just behind the cowboy. If anyone dropped a pin, it could have been heard in this place... It made them reluctant just to _breathe,_ and more and more, as they approached where an escort lead them, the dreadful though pressed into their minds...

 

If they felt this way just walking here...

How must Gabriel have felt _existing_ here for every hour of the day?

 

“ _Pain... I can't get enough..._ ”

 

In his cell, no one could hear him. He could hear himself, but nothing else. Humming kept him reminded that he wasn't going deaf, so he could almost constantly be seen murmuring something... Like a madman.

Then he saw it. The brim of a cowboy hat, and the following man beneath it, and soon, Jay. They strode in from the left as he sat on his bed. He could see them just beyond the window, and at first, he thought his eyes had betrayed him.

He thought that, until suddenly Jay shoved passed Jesse and the escort and pushed herself up against the counter outside of the window, her hazel eyes wide, glassed over with tears. Seeing Gabriel like this infuriated her. He was suddenly on his feet, muscles aching with the sudden movement, hands cuffed before him, and he came up to the window, looking at them. His eyes shifted from Jay to Jesse, who both spoke, not that he could hear them.

“What have you done to him!” The girl shouted, staring suddenly back at the escort in fury.

“He isn't feedin'.” Jesse deduced suddenly, eyes on the pale skin, the black and red eyes, the way he looked thinning and weak. He was almost frail. “That's why we're here, ain't it?”

“Something like that.” The escort replied. “Doctor Ziegler will be here tomorrow to work with our people over the subject.

“Can we talk to him?” Jesse asked, though it was clear by his voice that he was losing his patience.

“... Ten minutes.” The guard said. “No more. You cannot go in. You cannot give him anything. You can only talk... And we will be listening.” _So planning anything was out of the question._ The escort then stepped back, making his way to the door, arms crossed, giving them as much privacy as they could. Jaelen's hand slammed onto the comm device finally.

 

“Gabi- Gabi!” She cried, and Gabe glanced down at her through the glass. Her hand touched the window, and his, clawed and black, reached up to press to the other side. “You're... You're here... You're-”

His voice was cracked and it hurt him to speak, but he forced his voice to his lips. It was raspy and deep. It was Reaper, no matter how much he tried to fix it.

“I'm here.” he said simply.

“Here and alive...” Jesse said finally, coming to stand beside Jaelen. She pushed a button to leave the comm open, so that they could speak freely between them. “They're going to find you somethin' soon... To feed you. A lot of shit has happened.”

“ _Tell me everything._ ” Reaper replied. It was strange to hear his voice, but not to see his smoke drifting off of him. It had become so much a part of him now that without it there, he felt incomplete. He _looked_ incomplete.

“They were keeping you in-”

“ _Alcatraz. I know. I saw. Widowmaker was there. Attacked me._ ” As he indicated the stitched wound near his temple, which struggled to heal.

“Attacked you, and you were moved here.”

“Here?”

“North Dakota, Gabe. It's a secret facility... They wouldn't let us come without an escort.”

“...And _Jack_?”

“Alive... Alive and awake, Gabi.” Jay suddenly interrupts, needing to talk to him.”He wanted to come here, but the UN... They're going to make him go public.”

“...What is he going to do?” The man asked his eyes widening at the two.

“Tell them everything. Everyone. Everything.”

“Even _this? Even me?_ ”

“...Everyone.” Jesse confirmed.

“That will paint a huge target on his head-” Gabe growled.

“All the more reason that he will need to work with Overwatch, and that everyone will need to work together. Talon has gotten out of control. They're attacking cities all over the world- they don't even say why... They still want Jinx back, but no one knows where he is. We still haven't found him, after all this time. They're employing more Omnics... It's unlike anything I've ever seen.”

“...Omnics...” Reaper rumbles, remembering their mission to save Jinx, who had mysteriously teleported out of the base without a fight. “Something is... Wrong.” His eyes leveled on Jesse's for a moment. “Something else is going on...

“Yes... But right now, we can't do _anything_. The UN has locked us down. Grounded, on surveillance... We can't do anything until this is sorted out, and we're running out of time. Jack's not going to stop fighting for you until you're out of here... But they are going to feed you first. Soon.” The cowboy seemed to promise.

Hunger. Gabriel felt his body sag with the very word. He needed it. _Craved_ it. His eyes searched the two beyond the glass and he sighed. “I am lucky to have seen you at all... They would have let me die there... If Widowmaker hadn't...”

 

He trailed off, and something occurred to him. A silly daydream.

 _What if Widowmaker had done that specifically to save him?_...

Or... What if she had been _made_ to do that... To save him?

 

As the realization seemed to dawn on him, his eyes darted back up to the two.

Jesse was wearing this stupid little smile. The kind that was affirmative without words, and Gabe couldn't help the small smile that finally found his cracked, withered lips. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't. How he inwardly wished he could have seen how that had played out.

 

“What now?” he asked finally.

“Now, Jack's going to go give his little speech, and we're going to watch the world go crazy. We're going to get things straight and get back to doin' what we shoulda been doin' this whole god damn time... Puttin' Talon down where it belongs.”

 

This made Gabriel grin again.

For the first time in months, he felt the fire of revenge ignite itself in his chest. He wanted to get back to the mission... His redemption.

 

 

The lights were bright, the curtains shades of navy and gold. Chairs sat everywhere, and the low murmur of chatter offered a strange, tense atmosphere to the room. The press was everywhere, lurking nearby. Allegedly, Overwatch had something to say. That was all that had been openly told, that Overwatch had some kind of announcement to make. Dressed in a familiar black suit, Jack lurked nearby in the room beside the large round chamber. He listened quietly as Winston began an introductory speech.

“Hello to the United Nations, and to the Nations around the world, and all of its people. As you know, I am Winston, the current Strike Commander of Overwatch, and I come here on behalf of our heroes to speak to you today.”

Even in the room beyond, Jack could hear the click of cameras going off, the faint buzz of recordings being made.

 

“Decades ago, our world fought as one to overcome a wicked foe, an uprising of radical Omnic rebels who sought to put humanity down... And during this war, the world did something magnificent. Something... Truly world-changing. We came together as one, as a species.” Which seemed to have even more impact coming from the Gorilla himself. “We came together and we defeated them. In that moment, we spoke the same language... That we are human, and that we deserve to survive. Some of these omnics broke the chain from their Masters and heard our voices. Some of those omnics abandoned their cause to serve ours, and we, even more incredibly so, accepted them into our society. Now, omnics walk among us, one of us, not human, but one of us the same. Part of our people, our culture, for whom Overwatch fought for years. Those heroes are responsible for where we are today, and Seven, almost eight years ago, our world suffered the devastating loss of them in a brutal attack.” Many whom were onlooking would have said betrayal, but Winston made his words very deliberate. “An attack from Talon... At the time, it was not known or understood. It was so deeply entangled, that it was easy for the world to point the blame at the most likely suspect... Gabriel Reyes. As you may remember, he was the Commander of Blackwatch, the special-ops division of Overwatch... Blackwatch was unchecked and untamed... Uncontrolled, and committed several crimes for which all of us have ultimately paid... And in the end, Reyes appeared to have betrayed our cause, by destroying the Switzerland base.

I'm here today to tell you about an unpopular truth that Overwatch has come to realize. A truth that we have investigated for months, for almost a year now, to bring you the verdict I have today. And I am here today to tell you that we are working on providing the UN with proof of our claims.

...Two months ago, the Terrorist known as Reaper entered onto the battlefield in Barcelona, and rescued the vigilante known as Soldier Seventy Six. Everyone has speculated, but now, I can offer you the full explanation.

Months ago, Reaper abandoned Talon. He was inflicted with some kind of illness- a sort of induced amnesia that our organization has reached the bottom of.

...Reaper is the lost Blackwatch Commander, Gabriel Reyes.”

 

At once, the noise in the chamber erupted so loudly that Jack heard the thump of the noise through the wooden door.

 

“Please- Please! Settle down. Let me explain.” And only after several minutes did that happen. The Gorilla hesitantly continued. “Reaper came to us, confused and needing help. Lost, and needing a way to find himself. We helped him, after we discovered the truth of his identity. With our aid, and through many research missions, we discovered that Reyes had been drugged and manipulated while he was commander, years ago. We are very close to being able to prove that he was not in control of his own actions, nor responsible for the terrible acts he committed. For the last several months, Reyes has been working with us, with Overwatch, to help end the Terror that Talon is bringing upon the world. He has given us valuable information that we have used to locate and disable Talon attacks before they occur, or to find information that can further be used to slow their attacks. For the time being, Gabriel is being held in a secure facility until we can provide the proof we are researching. In the mean time, we have the aid of many skilled operatives who are working ceaselessly to put an end to these attacks...

 

And... I am proud to announce that I have one of those operatives here with me today... A man the world once knew as the face of a Hero. A man who we buried and mourned... A Soldier who has fought since the end of Overwatch to bring a resolution to this crisis once and for all.

A man... Returned to us from death.”

 

Then, the door into the room where Jack stayed was opened to him, and he stepped out.

 

Jack doubted he would forget the sound of so many voices and the flash of so many screens all at once in a very long time. It was like this when Jack Morrison had gone out of the world before, and it seemed it was these frantic sensations that would welcome him back into it. He took the podium, standing beside Winston, and thanked him with a nod of his head.

 

When he started to speak, the roomed hushed into a quiet so deep that he struggled to continue.

 

“Many of you will know me as Soldier Seventy-Six. Some of you may have been watching me for years, and I am sure that some of you know as I confirm to you now... That I am Jack Morrison. That I survived the explosion, and instead dedicated my life to trying to find the answer to what happened... To find a solution to the tragedy that destroyed our world. To find justice for what happened to the heroes of our lives, and bring peace to the world and its horrors brought upon it by Talon.

 

I'm here to tell you that I am here to help Overwatch again... And that I am here to help end the chaos Talon has brought upon us all. I'm here to remind you of what we did once. How we came together and put down a foe that seemed larger than us all. To convince you that it isn't too late to fix this. And finally, to tell you that we _have_ the answer to what happened.” The man paused. Thinking about Gabriel and what they had been through together in their lives made his heart ache. Thinking about what he was going through right now, alone, broke his heart. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't take that the world still thought of Gabriel as this ruthless, heartless machine with no soul... Or that he was some kind of soul-eating demon with no feelings. That he was somehow worse than even the worst of the world's most volatile criminals. If they knew what he was going through right now, so many of them would have said that he deserved it. To go against that belief was risky, but they needed to know the truth... The truth about he and Gabriel, and what had happened.

 

“Gabriel Reyes was my closest friend... And he was much more than that, too, for almost as long as I can remember. Back then, he was fighting his own battles that none of us could help him with... Battles that most of us didn't even know he had. But now he's here, with us, begging for sympathy, for aid. And I have no intention of giving up on him now. I'm standing here today _because_ of him, and I'm asking you, as a people, as a world, to give him a chance to redeem himself, and to have faith in Overwatch once again. To trust us the way you did before, with the faith that this time we will get it right. We _will_ find the proof that Gabriel is innocent, and when we do, he will rejoin the fight at our side, like the Hero he once was when he lead us through and out of the omnic crisis. I'll ask you not to forget the triumphs he achieved for us all, and what he had to sacrifice on the way to getting there. I'll ask you to forgive the terrible crimes he has committed while under the control of Talon's inhibiting chemistry.” Here, the man paused, giving everyone a moment to digest at least a little bit of what he had said. The room was so still and so quiet, that never before had Jack known what _awe_ sounded like.

 

“Your faith in Overwatch has been shaken. We acknowledge this, and we promise to do better. This time, we'll do it right, and we will bring down the influence of Talon on this world, and we'll do it...

...Together.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope you're enjoying the story and please let me know if you find any typos and whatnot!


	44. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Some disturbing death themes/scenes. Kinda mild but might be triggering to some people.

A week passes, and every day is a ride for Jack and Overwatch that no one wants to repeat. The press, investigations, paperwork... So much of all of it that Jack spent as much time out in the envirodome exercising as he could.

“You ready, boss?” Jesse said from somewhere behind him, his boots making their imprints in the grass. “There won't be any enforcers on the ship. You should get ready.”

“You sure?” Jack asked, finally pushing himself upright from his crunches, a small wince fleeting across his features. Still, it was nice not to have the brace anymore, but he accepted the offered hand when Jesse extended it to help him up.

“I'm sure. They're gone. Left all their cameras and shit behind but eh... They're done here, more or less. They'll be watching, though, so we've still gotta be a little careful.

“Thank you, Jesse.” How much time do I have?

“Thirty or forty minutes? The ships waiting on you.” The cowboy said, for a moment reaching up to remove his hat, dusting his metallic hand through his hair and over his scalp before replacing it, eyes shifting somewhere else in the dome for a moment before looking back. Jack was looking down, somewhat in thought... He was almost scared to see Gabriel again after so many months. Jesse and Jaelen had told him what a state he was in when they were there. Angela had been there for some time now, trying to help, but, apparently, the UN had been fighting her on actually _feeding_ Gabriel the way he needed to be fed, though he didn't know the specifics.

“I'll be there in an hour.” he said finally, despite that it was longer than Jesse had said. “I need to shower and change, and eat. Is Katie coming? I think he would want to see her.”

“She isn't permitted... Not high enough rank or somethin'.”

“I wasn't aware that our visitation rights depended on rank.”

“But then just anyone could flood the prison, couldn't they, if they were part of Overwatch? I figure they're limitin' how many of us can see him at a time, too.” Jesse replied, and Jack made a small, thoughtful sound.

“I suppose so. Thanks for finding me, Jesse.” The Soldier says, and Jesse nods, then turns to leave, striding out of the area. An hour later, they were on the ship and in the air.

 

When Jack arrives at Gabriel's cell, the man is sleeping... Though with how pale his complexion has gotten, it's hard to tell that he hadn't passed on. His fingers are still clawed, as are his toes, but even the darkness of the skin has turned into an ashy grey tone, flaking and peeling. His body was so thin compared to the last time Jack had seen him, his muscle withering. Jack's eyes teared up almost at once, and his hand came up to his mouth to cover the gasp that fell out of him. He rushed forward, abandoning the escort who had lead him in. He hand dropped onto the comm device situated against the glass window and he trembled to touch it.

“G-Gabe? Gabriel?” Jack didn't trust the strength of his own voice. He sounded just as weak as Gabriel looked, and twice as vulnerable. “Gabe, wake up.”

Slowly, the wraith stirred, and his eyes came open. They were almost completely black. The red ring within them was so dim that from here, Jack couldn't even see it. Finally, they focused on him, and Gabe felt like he was looking at a ghost, or some kind of mirage... Jack.

Jack...

He was... here.

 

“Jack...” The man barely manages to voice, the rattling, raspy baritone more like Reaper than he realized. It startles Jack somewhat, who draws himself closer to the window. More than anything, he wants to be in there with him, to hold Gabe close to him and feel him there before he withers away. He knows without a question that the wraith is dying. He can see it. Sluggishly, Gabriel pulls himself out of the bed and makes his way to the window, hand clawed hand lifting to rest on the window. “You... Went public.” He adds quietly.

“I did.” Jack replies, but his mind can't be further away from that sacrifice at the moment. “Gabe... I... You're so...”

“I know, Jackie.”

 

Jack feels his heart breaking with the sight of him like this. The tears in his eyes finally fall, and he looks down, away. It hurts to see him like this, knowing he can't really help.

“This isn't right. I thought they were feeding you- I thought...”

“They are... Just not... Enough. They... don't understand how it... works.” Reaper responds, loosely shaking his head. “They're trying to bring me people who have been dead far too long.” He manages a full sentence without breaking up. Jack looks down, over him, shaking his head again.

 _“This isn't right._ ” He repeats. “You don't deserve this-”

“ _Yes I do, Jack._ ” Reaper responds at once, but Jack's eyes snap back onto him, angry.

“No! You don't! Don't you say that, Gabriel! You don't no one deserves this...!”

“I've killed _thousands_ of people... I've slaughtered them... Like cattle. I've left so little of them... Behind, that they... Couldn't even be properly... Buried. Tell me, Jack...” The man wheezes as he speaks. “How am I any _different_ from the _omnics_ we fought? A... Mindless... Hungry beast... Obeying the orders of my mind... Kill to survive.”

“You fought to defend humans! You repelled those omnics-”

“ _To eventually become one of them._ A different motive... A different face... But I am just the same, Jack. I deserve to-”

“ _NO!_ ” Jack suddenly shouted, shoving himself upwards from the seat he had taken near the window. Gabe was not allowed the luxury of a seat, so now, they looked each other eye to eye again. “No, goddamnit. I fought for you, Gabe. I am still fighting for you! It isn't going to end like this! I love you, godda-” His voice broke, and his tears overwhelmed him. Gabriel watched on, quiet and in pain. There was nothing he could do to soothe Jack, and nothing he could say that would make it better.

“ _I love you too, Jackie... Always will..._ ” He paused, watching as Jack slowly sat once more, burying his face in his hands. “I didn't... Want you to see me like this, Jack... I want you to remember me how I was, and... And _move on_. Help the world the way you _always_ have. Do what I _couldn't_ do...”

Jack sobbed. Hearing Gabriel like this- so weak, powerless and given up... It tore him to pieces. He realized that the prison was only half of the punishment that they were enforcing on the wraith, and that this, his broken soul, was the other half.

“I... I can't do that, Gabe.” Jack whispers in a shuddering heap. “I can't just let you go. I tried moving on, years ago. It didn't work then. It won't work now. I _can't_ do this without you. I _need_ you here with me. I'm not going to leave you behind. Not again. I'm not abandoning you to this fate. I will _not_ stop fighting...” A hard edge of anger had worked its way into his voice. “And you can't give up on me either, Gabriel. Trust that I will find a way to get us out of this. I'll find a way. We could _get away_ from all of this. From everyone... Live in quiet, alone, together, at peace... We could disappear, Gabriel.”

The image that Jack painted in Gabriel's mind was a good one... Somewhere quiet and warm, sunlight on the soldier's face, a home somewhere without anyone else to bother them... An idyllic life that had been stolen away from them... He wanted it more than anything... To simply _escape_ with Jack. To escape the troubles of the world and let it take care of itself. The man said nothing, watching as Jack stood up again.

“Jack!” Gabriel gasped, watching him. Eyes searched those blues in a pleading tone. “..S-Stay. Stay with me.”

“... I'll stay as long as I can.” Jack said, slowly coming back down to sit. They stayed and talked for the remainder of his visit- which wasn't especially long. Another fifteen minutes is all that the UN would allow in one sitting. It is a bittersweet meeting, and Jack is terrified that it might be the last time he sees Gabriel.

 

The days pass, and Jack spends every moment he's allowed with Gabriel- which isn't much, but by the time he arrives back in Italy, he feels hallow and empty, upset and weak. He hates knowing that the love of his life is trapped in a silent prison- a man for whom death has so many different meanings, and now, he's walking willingly into it. He's accepting it, because he thinks he deserves it, because that's what the world has convinced him. He hates knowing that he's powerless to do anything.

 

Well... Almost powerless.

 

Jack arrives in the Command Center a couple hours into the morning following his return. It's been a sleepless night with plenty of coffee and music to put him at ease while he worked on something. A new path. A new _plan._

“Ana, you're coming tonight, aren't you?” He says casually towards the old sniper as she sits, staring at a holo-screen nearby to Winston.

“Coming? Where Jack?”

“Drinks, remember? We were going to play blackjack and watch some old shows.” Ana stared at him skeptically for a moment before tilting her head.

“I must be getting more forgetful than I realized. Sure. I'll be there. When were we meeting again?”

“Twenty-one hundred hours. Late, but that'll keep us from getting too tipsy, I guess.” He laughed gently. They both knew that the late hour would keep anyone outside of their circle from knowing what was going on or getting suspicious. Most people were in their quarters by then. “Winston, you figure you'll show?”

“Never played blackjack, Morrison.” Winston sounds sour and oblivious.

“Come on. We'll teach you. _I insist._ ” The soldier replies, and the gorilla gives him a look. The stare they exchange is knowing, and finally he nods.

“Well... I suppose some socialization would be good for me.. Scientifically speaking.” He replies, nudging his glasses up a little more. “Who else is coming?”

“Whoever wants to play the game. Jesse, Olivia, Carter. Angela, maybe... But she might just be there to keep us in check. Shimada, if he feels so inclined. I hope the monks haven't meditated the fun right out of him.” Jack teases as a means of keeping the watching cameras oblivious, and the three of them laugh gently.

“Alright, alright. I'll see you then, Jack.”

They all know beyond any question that there _is_ no blackjack game, but a meeting that's going to be held in his room later that night. Jack clearly has something he needs to talk about, and it doesn't involve the UN eavesdropping either.

 

Everyone showed up, though Jesse was late, as expected. They gathered around Jack's table and lurked nearby to the sofa, everyone sort of sitting and waiting until finally the gunslinger arrived. Finally, their laughing and playful banter drew to a close and they quieted.

“What's this all about then?” Jesse asked finally, his eyes pinning on Jack, who was leaning against his table.

“Gabriel. Have you seen him recently?” The Soldier says.

“I've seen him.” Angela replied at once.

“He's dying.” Jack adds, glancing to Ana. “We have to do something. They're not feeding him.”

“I have been trying to work with them.” Angela continues. “They don't want to give him full bodies to feed from, or people who are too recently dead. They don't have an easy access, and they're afraid that the shipments will draw attention to his location from Talon. Moreover, they're afraid that if he regains full strength that he will try to escape on his own. They don't want that to happen.”

“He wouldn't do that.” Jaelen suddenly cuts in. “Did they forget that he went in on his own?”

“It's more than that,” Jack rebukes. “He _wants_ to die. That's how bad it's gotten for him in there. He's in constant pain- constant agony. He blames himself for everything he's done. We have to do something.”

“Like _what?_ ” Winston interrupts. “If we pull any kind of stunt, everything is over... Us, Overwatch, the resistance against Talon... All of it.”

“We brought him into this organization to help him, didn't we?” Jack replies.

“ _Damn right._ ” McCree murmurs, lighting up a cigar from where he stands across the room near the sofa.

“What do you propose we do, Jack?” Ana asks.

“We can't just _leave_ him there. We're not going to abandon him to this. We have to break him out.”

“You can't be serious.” Winston says with a sigh. “Our hands are tied, Morrison.”

“We have some of the most skilled operatives on the planet. _You_ put Doomfist in prison, Winston. You mean to tell me you can't get Gabriel out?”

“ _Reaper_ infiltrated my base, Morrison. He killed people without a second's hesitation. He _is_ dangerous. Yes, it's good that he's on our side now, but this is _not_ how we rebuild the trust the world has with us. They have to see that we're willing to do things legally.”

“What they're doing to him isn't legal! They're starving him to death.”

“He is a special case. He's not like any other captive they have ever had. They haven't had months to get to know him and trust his intentions like we have.”

“He's been spending the last several months working to help the world...” Jaelen interrupts, supporting Jack.

“And what proof do they have of that, Carter?” Winston asks. “We've kept all records of him quiet and unlisted to avoid exactly this.”

“We need to get him out, or at least get him fed. I meant what I said in my speech. I'm not going to stop fighting for him.” Jack insists.

“If we interfere, the UN will know. There will be repercussions.” Ana adds, sighing as she slouches in her seat nearby the leaning Soldier.

“Then we go on our own-”

“You _just_ went public, Morrison.” A silent-until-now Genji Shimada says from the shadows across the room, leaning against the wall. “I think that patience would be our best move in this scenario. As Winston says, our hands are tied.”

Jack, in disbelief, glances to Angela, who looks quiet and pensive. “And you're on board with this, doctor? You can let them do this to him?”

“I am doing _everything_ I can to help keep him alive, Jack. I am trying to argue them into giving him more...”

“ _They are not doing enough! He will die before this is over!_ ” Jack struggles not to get emotional as he tries to make them understand. The problem is that everyone understands, and everyone in divided. “Angela!”

“ _No_. Jack. Listen. The bottom line is that if we break him out, we lose everything. Not just Gabriel, but everything. Everyone here. All of this, and become criminals ourselves. If we intervene and try to feed him, they may stop feeding him entirely- in which case he could die in a week. If we feed him entirely, they may execute him, and end Overwatch. However... If we negotiate- if we continue to let them feed him like this, he will survive much longer... Long enough for us to find the proof to free him... Legally. It isn't ideal. I know that he's in pain. I know that he's in a bad place, mentally, and that he looks worse every day... But this is the best way to get out of this- all of us- in one piece. I'm sorry Jack...”

No one says anything for a long moment after that. Angela has already thought this through, and now, everyone has to decide where they stand on the matter. They've heard the options now, and they know the risks. Inwardly, Jack doesn't trust the UN to keep Gabriel alive. He doesn't believe they'll keep feeding him. They want him dead, because they don't trust him, and it would be easy for them to tell the public that Gabriel died of complications to his injuries. And with Overwatch here, in Italy, it was too easy for them to get away with it without anyone being there to enforce them keeping Gabriel alive.

 

Later that night, after everyone's left, Jack feels like helping Gabriel escape is the only option... Despite everything they've discussed. Even alone, he and Gabriel could help take down Talon. Sure, Overwatch helped, and he seriously doubted that Overwatch would ever _actually_ be done...

But... There was another option too, wasn't there?

 

_Why fight for a world that wants you dead? Why give yourself for people who would not do the same for you? We did our duty to this world decades ago. We sacrificed our youth to them... Why shouldn't we take what we have left and live out the rest of our lives alone, together? Why shouldn't we disappear? I can do it alone. I can leave Overwatch out of this... They get to say they had nothing to do with it, and me and Gabriel vanish into the world..._

 

Jack's mind is made up by the time he lays down to sleep. He starts making his plans.

 

Gabriel stares at body. It's pale and dry, stiff and recently thawed from some freezer somewhere. The clothes still have that hint of frost along their edges - not unlike the other bodies that they have given him before in this prison, except that this one has one very noticeable difference.

She's a child.

Gabriel stares on, his own frame unmoving from his bed where he has been curled up for the last thirty hours or so. Her eyes are closed, but he knows that below the lids, the eyes just stare onward, upward at the ceiling of his cell, lifeless and rigid. The door to his cell is half closed from them carting her in, and a guard fumbles with his tech-keys for the re-locking. She still lays on the silver, metal gurney-like tray that lays close to the ground.

“I cannot feed like this.” Reaper's voice rumbles past his lips. His eyes shift towards the fumbling guard. “I won't.”

“That's not my problem.” The guard replies shortly, and Gabriel is suddenly on his feet, though the motion hurts. The guard, understandably, suddenly has a weapon in his hand- some kind of pulse pistol.

“If you would uncuff me I could feed prope-”

“ _That's not going to fucking happen._ ” The guard snaps, and Gabriel stares on, infuriated.

“I am _not_ a cannibal.” Reaper replies coldly.

“Really? Could have fooled us. You haven't had any trouble with any of the other corpses.” The guard then holsters the weapon and swiftly shuts and locks the cell, then walks away, leaving Gabriel with the body. He wasn't going to tear this girl apart and eat her piece by piece. Not like he had the others, out of pure necessity. But here? Here was where he drew the line. This girl had been someone's daughter once. Eating her would nourish him a little... But not enough to make a difference. He was still dying, and despite how much he hungered, he refused to do this. Slowly, he sat back down on his bed... Staring at the body.

 

The following morning, an emergency holo-screen outside of his window suddenly flicks on with a loud blaring noise. Gabriel can't hear it, but the light it casts suddenly into his chamber wakes him from what was the closest thing to sleep as he could get.

 

The first thing he sees is a skyline, and in the midst of it, an unmistakable tower. The Eiffel Tower. Paris. A news anchor is speaking quickly in french so fast that even if he could lip-read, and even if he knew french, he wouldn't be able to make out what she was saying. In the background, he can see security ships already taking to the air... Along with the invisible shimmer of stealthed ships that can only come from a few places- namely, Talon. But watching the screen offers very few glimpses of such, and for a moment he questions whether he's seen it at all. Could it simply be a trick of the eye? Before he can know for sure, the camera changes and swaps to a new angle. He's looking at the ground, city streets, fleeing civilians, people abandoning their cars and shops, all running away from something- a roar of gunfire that Gabriel cannot hear from his cell. It's dawn in France, and the minimal light makes it difficult to see anything, as buildings cast long blue shadows against the ground and only occasionally can he see people passing through beams of sunlight as they sprint away from some kind of catastrophe nearby. Finally, the lights of the gunfight reach the camera's lens, and Gabriel can see the bright orange of explosions and the yellow that precedes them. There are soldiers on the ground dressed in all black, familiar helmets and attire... Talon. Gabriel was suddenly on his feet, staring at the screen for as much information as it could give him. Their firefight is then interrupted by something he did not expect...

Bastion fire.

A familiar pain strikes through Gabriel in places where the wounds have long since healed, decades ago. Images of the crisis hurdle through his head as the camera focuses on the assailant... Or rather, who _would_ be defending Paris, if it was security forces at all... Yet it wasn't. The omnic was painted in solid black and marked... With Talon insignia.

Gabriel's concerns from days prior with Jesse and Jay are confirmed in a hideous moment as he watches on. The camera pans out, revealing the whole of it. Talon agents on foot fight Talon omnics... Omnics.

Akande was never interested in helping omnics. Omnics were not part of his crooked agenda of making humanity stronger. So why then would he hire them to work for Talon? Omnics had never _really_ been involved when Reaper was there- at least no more than the rebellious outsider or misguided omnic who thought they were helping in some way. But this? This was organized and uniform, not at all unlike what he and Jack faced during SEP. They moved in a fluid, frightening sort of formation, aim precise and perfect. And these bastions had been _upgraded_ from their previous designs. Though it was hard to make out, he could see shields on some of them... Variations similar to the previous war... But why were they painted as Talon, and fighting Talon? Why Paris, and why was Talon there to stop them in the first place? Was it a civil war that had somehow taken itself to the streets, or an inside faction?

 

Gabriel watched on.

 

So did Jack. His plans had been for the moment set aside, since the second that the alarm in his quarters had gone off and jolted him, and everyone else in Overwatch, out of bed.

“It's obvious, isn't it?” Sombra suddenly interrupted, her lips in a wide smile.

“What?” Jack asked, suddenly looking her way. They all stood side by side in the Command Center, and Jesse stood sleepily beside him, but his eyes were still glued to the screens.

“It's him. It's Jinx.”

“What'n hell'r you talkin' about?” The cowboy asked.

“Think about it. He goes missing from his own cell, without a fight. They somehow teleport out, to who knows where, and who knows why. Suddenly, Talon starts hiring omnics, and now, they're fighting each other in the street. Jinx played them. He has to have! Why else would they be doing this. He's trying to get back at them to-”

“To _what_ , Olivia?” Zarya's a new addition to the room, and she still makes people uneasy. She nudges her way between Jesse and Sombra, and motions at the screen. “This is _not_ him. I have _met_ an omnic like him- this is not...”

“Not all omnics are the same.” Genji says, his voice sharp, defensive.

“Besides the point!” The Russian's voice raises. “These omnics are attacking a city! A city with civilians, people everywhere... They're parading as Talon... They are not good. They are not _Jinx_. Jinx is not a bad man, no? Tell me then, why would they do this? What purpose does it serve him to attack city as Talon?”

 

That was something that no one had yet thought about, and she had a point, didn't she? Jinx was a good man- a brilliant hacker... Revenge wasn't something that usually occurred in Omnics, and even when it did, it was rare. To think that Jinx would be taking out his revenge on Talon for what they did to him by attacking Paris, putting civilian lives at risk and causing even more trouble for Talon was unthinkable. Moreover, if Jinx had somehow gotten free of Talon's grasp and was attacking them, wouldn't he have attacked one of their, or perhaps many of their hubs, now that he knew where they all were? For him to attack a populated city, or any city at all, made no sense.

 

This wasn't Jinx, but it was someone else.

 

Someone who had something to do with his disappearance, and now, there was a war waged between Talon and this... This other faction.

 

“We have to find out who they are and what they're doing. Sombra, is there any way you could hack one of them to find out more?” Winston finally interrupts. He's been getting better at taking charge recently, and it's a change that Jack finds favorable.

“Only from the ground- we'd have to get there and fast.”

“Do it. I'm sending you with McCree and Carter. Ana-”

“I will go with them, of course.”

“Good. Angela, Go with Genji and Jack. Damage control on the west side of the city- get civilians _out_ of there. Help in whatever way you can. Everyone else will be coming with me to the main fight. We can expect Widowmaker and Doomfist to arrive... We will need everyone that we can get. Genji... You said you sparred with someone with potential-”

“Katie Hall. She's one of our scientists.”

“Perfect. Get her suited up and take her with you.”

“Sir.” The cyborg affirmed, and then everyone turned and headed out.

 

Gabriel is not part of the fight. It pains him as he watches for hours, until Overwatch finally arrives. He is helpless to do anything but watch as the two warring factions are finally split up and dissipate in the battle. Finally, the fight ends, after hours, and the media finds Winston as he is being tended by a medic after the battle. There are gunshots along one of his arms, breaking his armor, and blood seeps from a wound on the side of his head.

Gabriel reads the subtitles eagerly- luckily, they're in English.

_Do you know what's happened here?_

_We have no information at this time, no._

_Overwatch is here- did the UN allow-_

_I am unable to detail that at this time. We got as many people out as we were able._

_Do you think that this has something to do with Reaper?_

_At this time I have no information. I do not know how this happened or why. We are working to get this solved as soon as possible._

_Jack Morrison was on the field today- would you say he was giving the commands today as well? He wasn't wearing the leg brace that we was at the press release, would it be safe to say he's made a full recovery?_

_No. No, Morrison is working as one of our operatives, but he is not in command. He is following my orders as expected. Morrison is still technically in recovery for his leg, but Super Soldiers heal quickly, as I'm sure you know. I deployed him to the safer side of the city to help with evacuations. He will of course assume his regular duties once he is completely healed._

_You're injured, of course, did Overwatch lose anyone in the battle?_

_No, luckily not. Many of us are injured in some way, but no one is fatally wounded. Now, I have to go, if you'll excuse me._

_Sir- SIR! We have so many questions!_

_As always, we will have something for you when we know something._

 

Jack wasn't harmed, thank god. It's all that Gabriel can think as his eyes remain focused on the screen. It's now playing back scenes from the battle, and this time, the camera is focused on the all-too familiar sniper on the roof. She's focused and quick, her motions almost as mechanical as the omnics she's shooting at. As usual, there is no expression on her features. Gabriel wonders about her... About what she was doing when she open fired on him in the prison. She meant to kill him, didn't she? Did she honestly think that Sombra was being honest with her? Or, perhaps there was something... Else. Was it possible, even minutely, that Widowmaker had taken the job not simply because she was infuriated and betrayed by him? Perhaps... She had seen the state he was in, and wanted to put him out of his misery? Perhaps she thought, inside, that she was doing him a courtesy... Or perhaps trying to excise what feelings she had for him, by putting him down. Did she think that in so doing, she would also put to rest whatever confusion she had in herself? Maybe it was all of these things...

 

And if any of them had worked, Amélie would not be standing here with Moira right now.

The geneticist's private lab was more reclusive than the Widow had expected it to be. It was away from Talon, away from the public eye, far below ground in the bowels of Oasis. While on the surface, the city was a stunning, gorgeous gem of architecture and glass, below ground it was significantly darker, but no less stunning.

The chamber was like a dome, and alcoves were set into the walls like cryostasis chambers, fed with tubes and gasses that kept them perpetually bubbling and fed. They were in varying shades of cerulean blue and vivid purple, some of them even holding test subjects. Overhead, small round port lights glittered in varying shades of white and blue. There was a large, circular desk in the center of the room, hallowed out like the inner curve of a horse shoe. The desk itself, bright white metal and glass with holo screens that levitated above the surface, both horizontal and vertical. Around the outer edge of the circular room, the floor was inset with something that reminded Amélie very much of a moat... What appeared to be some kind of bubbling, glowing green-blue fluid cast a light upwards around the entire area, leaving the ceiling in absolute darkness. In the very center of the room, a pulsating, shiny black mass, like oil that had come alive, a sphere of pure darkness. Beside it, the tall, lanky, vaguely haunting figure that was Moira O'Deorain. Her mis-matched eyes were primed upon the clear experiment in the center of the room, a sickly, if small smile plastered onto her thin lips.

Lacroix's heels echoed across the room as she stepped over a small stone archway that bridged over the would-be moat that pumped a noxious seeming fog out around their ankles at all times.

“Why did we have to meet here?” Amélie suddenly demands as she stops just on the other side of the bridge.

“Ah... The spider finally arrives. Welcome, Lacroix. I knew you could not deny my invitation for long.” Moira offers arrogantly as a way of greeting. Without a word, Widowmaker drops her eyes, then turns as though to abruptly leave. Whatever game Moira means to play, she has no intention of being part of it. The idea of being one of her experiments sickens her... But at the same time... She had already become one of those ages ago, hadn't she?

_After all, hadn't Moira been the one who saw to what she was now?_

“Oh, come now, Amélie. Do not leave so soon, it was a joke!” She half-teased, but the humor was lost on the sniper. “I know why you are here. You want a remedy, don't you? I could not afford to leave my experiments for so long. You did not want Akande to know what you're going through. I understand. Come and talk to me would you?”

“ _Why did we have to meet here,_ _witch?_ ” Widow growls, glancing over her shoulder at Moira, who now faces her on the other side of the desk.

“Privacy, I suppose. You do want privacy, don't you? You don't want Talon to think you're growing weak. I can help you.”

“What do you know about what I'm going through?”

“Lacroix... Please, my dear. I've been watching over you for a decade. You can't expect to hide this from me. I know you're looking for a solution or else you wouldn't have accepted my invitation...” The tall specter slowly walks around the side of her desk and emerges, walking across the space so that she stands directly in front of the woman, looking down. In these lights, the geneticist is silhouetted in her own darkness- it's a bone-chilling sight, even for Widow, who can understand why Akande is so untrusting of her, and in some respects, she agrees.

“What are you offering?” Widow asks abruptly.

“What are you looking for, specifically?” Moira counters. Amélie sighs, and finally paces away from Moira, around her and slowly begins to saunter around the room, on the edge of the substance, fog rolling around her ankles as she snakes a path through it with each tall step. Moira turns to face her, watching as the Widow's gilded eyes land upon some of the subjects in their respective alcoves.

 

“What are these?” Widowmaker asks finally as she comes to stop in front of them.

“Experiments, as usual. You didn't honestly think I had just one, did you?”

“No, I mean why are they here, away from... From your public laboratory... Why Not at Talon?”

The geneticist makes a small sort of sound, which ends eerily like a laugh.

“I suppose you could say these are my... Pet projects. Experiments for myself... Unrelated.”

“Replacements for Reaper?” The sniper suddenly interjects. She can obviously see parallels between some of these and Gabriel himself. Moira has arrived at her side finally, and looks down at the sniper.

“You're very observant, Amélie. It's one of your best qualities. Is this what you want? To be like him?”

The answer is immediate and sudden.

“No.”

“Oh? Then tell me-”

“A solution. You said that you can see what I need... I do not trust you. Never have, never will... But even I must admit that you have talent in what you do. You did it once before, didn't you? Just as you did it to him- to Gabriel Reyes. You took his memories away from him just like you did mine.”

“... In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.” The scientist confesses.

“You will do it again.”

“...What is that?”

“You will do it again, to me.” Amélie clarifies, her voice like a demand. “I want to forget everything. I want to forget who I was before. Entirely. I am starting to remember.” She says, tapping her temple. “And the pain... I want it gone. I want to forget that Reaper and I were almost close before he betrayed me. I want to forget that he saved me, or _why_ he saved me. Talon is my home, and I will serve them... And I don't want to feel conflicted about doing it.”

“... I'm afraid I don't quite have that much control over the memories, Amélie. It isn't like that so much-”

“Then what _is_ it like? What would happen to me?”

“You would be reset... Like... Removing the battery from a device and giving it a new one, then forcing it to reboot. You would be born anew, not unlike when we first brought you into Talon... After what Gerard did to you, of course, and after what Overwatch did to him. You wouldn't remember anything that had happened between then and now. You'd only know your name, and Talon. Is that truly what you want?”

It was a large cost... To lose so much for such a cause...

“I would still be able to shoot?”

“Yes, of course. You would not lose the technical abilities that you have learned over the years. You would need to be reminded of your place in this world and your place in it.”

“Would it hurt?”

“The process...?”

“Yes. The removal. Would it be like this?” She motions to the subjects in the alcoves.

“Ah. No. This is for something else entirely.” Moira soothes.

The Widowmaker is quiet for a long moment as she seems to debate, before suddenly turning to face Moira.

“Good. Do it.”

“And Talon?”

“Tell them what you need to.”

“I will need you to sign some paperwork, or else they will think I forced you into this.”

“I'll sign it. Will it take long?”

“A few doses over a few weeks. But, by the time you go into battle again, you will be back where you want to be. I swear it.”

 

“Do it.” Widowmaker repeats.

 

 

Jack sits in a meeting with Winston and Ana and three officials from the UN as they discuss the attack. The soldier is torn with his feelings. He wants to free Gabriel, alone. He wants to find a way to get him out of that situation, to feed him... But he knows that if he leaves, if he does disappear with the man, the world will be left in chaos... This new chaos brought upon it by Talon and some other unknown faction. Can Jack abandon the world to that fate? Could Gabriel? And what would be left of the world they had once saved together if they did? Could they live in that world? Or with themselves, for that matter?

No.

 

These meetings have gone on every day now for hours, with no conclusion. During the attack, Sombra was unable to hack any of the omnics. It was strange, she said, like they had been warded specifically against her, or any outside control... It was as if they were acting like a hive, under one command, and nothing could overwrite that command. Jinx, if he was even involved, was no where to be found.

 

“Every moment that we spend arguing about what should be done is a moment that these two factions grow stronger. Talon is surely planning some other kind of attack. This new faction- these omnics... Who knows what they want. For all we know, they intend to use Talon against us. We accomplish nothing fighting here.” Winston argued.

“And you expect us to simply allow Overwatch go unchecked?”

“ _Overwatch_ stopped the attack without your permission. We saved hundreds of people-”

“And yet you still disobeyed our orders-”

“And if we hadn't, _thousands_ could have died, instead of fourty-three.” Winston rebuked.

There was a silence between them, because everyone knew it was true. Overwatch had been crucial in breaking up that fight, and people had survived because of it... Yet fourty-three was still a high number, small compared to what it could have been, and what it would be, if this war became any more escalated.

“What do you propose we do, then?”

“Give us back our ability to fight on our own without needing prior authority. If we cannot act quickly during these times, we cannot save anyone.”

“And give you freedom to roam and do as you wish once more? No. That is why Overwatch failed in the first place, isn't it? None of you have found a solution to what is causing this. Your success over Talon has been very recent- and it took you seven years to do even that!”

“Overwatch wasn't _functioning_ for the whole seven years-”

 

“Wait,” Jack interrupts finally. “There is another solution.”

All eyes turn to him expectantly, and his hands gesture faintly on the table, as a sort of shrug.

“We only had success recently because we managed to restore Gabriel-”

“ _You can't be serious-_ ” One of the officials started, but another, silenced him with a hand.

“Just listen.” Jack said. “Gabriel knows Talon more than anyone else in Overwatch, or in the UN combined. Sombra knows some, but if she's unable to hack, she's little more than another operative in our ranks. Reaper is more than that. He can do more. See more. Go more places and find answers no one else can. Moreover, you're failing to feed him, and he's dying. If he dies, you lose me, and you lose this whole operation. Additionally, you lose the full trust of the world and everyone else who is looking up to you, the _United Nations,_ to do the right thing. If you're not united in this, how can you be in other world trials that will require your cooperation? If you can't work with Overwatch, and you server only to do what you decide will serve humanity best, how are you any better than Talon? How are you any different.”

“ _Careful, Soldier,_ ” One of them warns, but Jack continues.

“The world has seen Overwatch fighting for them. The world has seen countless lives saved by Overwatch not only in the past, but recently as well. They will know that without us, the UN is powerless to act, and that you have abandoned them to this, out of fear, when there was something else you could do. Give Gabriel back to us, and let him fight along side us. Let him help us in this chaos to find a way through. He lead us through the crisis... Years ago, and he was just a man then. He is so much more now, and he _wants_ to help us. If you release him to us, we may have a chance to find out what exactly is going on, and how to stop it. Moreover, he won't die because of your inadequacy, and if we're successful, the world will see you as heroes for taking a risk that has saved them.”

“And if we fail, we will be the ones who condemned them to it by releasing a monster back onto the battlefield.”

 

Again, silence takes them. This time, for good.

 

They do not speak again until the next day, and when they go to meet, they are met instead by a single official, who hands over a folder to them, stacked with paperwork.

 

“What is this?” Winston asks, taking the document and opening it to the first page.

“A new contract.” The official replies.

 

Jack reads the first line of the document from where he stands.

 

**Terms and Conditions Regarding the Governing of Overwatch**

**and the Release of Gabriel “Reaper” Reyes.**

 


	45. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the story? Please consider helping me keep going by buying me a coffee! Who doesn't love coffee?  
> https://ko-fi.com/C0C36S90

Sombra is sitting just on the other side of the glass, her hand held up, displaying a projection that Gabriel had missed at some point. After all, the monitor across from his cell wasn't always left on- in fact, more often than not, it was left off just to secure him in a true state of boredom.

“How long will it be?” Gabriel rasped as he watched the scene- another battle, another city. This one smaller than the first, but once again, omnics, and Talon going head to head in a bizarre way... Yet Talon was making it very clear, they had no intention of saving civilians, or helping them in any way. Neither side did.

“A few more days maybe. There is paperwork, you know, and these attacks haven't exactly made it easy for the UN and Overwatch to make the necessary changes.”

“Changes? What changes?”

“... They're calling them precautions. They have a lot of rules that go along with getting you out of here, Gabe... But you _are_ getting out.”

“ _What precautions, Olivia?_ ”

“I don't know yet. I suppose you could say they didn't decide I was important enough for that information.” She shrugs gently. “But then they'll have you on a ship back home-”

“And I can feed?”

“ _And_ you can feed.” She confirmed.

Gabriel sighs the heaviest relief he's felt in months. Home... Food _._.. _Jack_. Before he can dwell further on what that means, the camera changes position, and he sees her.

Widowmaker. She's firing faster than he's ever seen her move before. Her eyes are sharp, her body shifting like a machine, agile and quick, completely unfettered. “...How is she?” He asks suddenly.

“...Lacroix?” Sombra asks, somewhat taken aback by the request. “You still _care_ about her, Reaper?” She asks, almost amused, but when she sees that Gabe doesn't smile back, her own fades. “Ah... Sorry. I mean... I haven't exactly been keeping tabs on her, but nothing of what I've seen has been good.”

“ _What do you mean?_ ” Reaper asks.

“Well, remember how she was sort of... Going off the deep end, with the alcohol and whatnot?” Sombra waves her hand, letting the images on the screen fade as she drops her arm, fingers interlacing with one another before propping her chin atop them. She's casual in a way that bothers him somewhat, but he doesn't pry.

“Okay?” He asks, urging her onward.

“Remember how we talked about what Talon might do to Jinx? Reprogramming him...?”

“What does _that_ have to do with Widowmaker?”

“I mean that they seem to have found another solution for her. They've... I mean, I can't be sure... But she seems _reset_ somehow. She isn't drinking like she was before. It was so quick- dropped off in a little over a week, I guess... She's faster. Sharper. More focused. I haven't seen her speak once- not that I've had many opportunities to do so. All of the probing I've done into Talon's systems have been very quick and careful. Barely enough to bring you this much...”

Gabriel has looked away, and his eyes carry something in them that Sombra did not expect to see. Sadness.

“... Reyes, come on. You knew that this was a possibility. She has always been loyal to Talon... Always.”

“Not _always_ , Sombra. She was a woman once- a man's wife. A man I knew, cared about. A man who fought with me, with us... Talon made her betray him-”

“I _know_ her story, Gabe. It's just, that was a really long time ago. She wants nothing more than to kill you now. Isn't that obvious?” She motions at the wound on his shoulder and temple that still haven't healed properly since she attacked him in Alcatraz. “I figured you would have moved on...”

“ _Someone_ didn't move on from me, Sombra. Someone has to care about her- _someone_ does.”

“... You? Gabriel, you've already chosen your side.”

“I'm not leaving,” He hissed back, though it hurt to do so. “But I'm allowed to care.”

Sombra looks down, as if she had, for a moment, forgotten that fact. She nods gently.

“Right. I'm sorry, Gabe. You're right. I wish I could say I had better news for you, but I don't. But... If it's any help to you? She isn't hallucinating anymore. She isn't talking to herself, or having nightmares. She isn't drinking every hour of the day like she was. She sleeps, eats, everything, all like normal. She seems more at peace now than she was before.”

Gabriel nods in response, eyes dropping some as Sombra's had.

“Does that comfort you?” The hacker asked. It took a long moment, but finally the man replied.

“...It does. Thank you, Olivia.”

“...Good. Are _you_ alright, Gabe? You're not going to die on us in the next couple days, are you?” Her light jests always seem to lift the mood, and Gabe manages a dry, painful chuckle.

“I'll try not to.”

“Good,” She says, moving to stand. “See you back at home, then. Goodnight, Reaper.”

“Goodnight, Sombra.”

 

Akande lounges on a long sofa in his room in front of a massive holo-screen, and the Widowmaker lays nearby, almost robotically staring up at the ceiling from the bed, which is roughed up from recent use. She feels no more satisfied now than she did before, not that she came here looking for anything. In truth, Amélie didn't know _why_ she was here, only that she was, and that lingering felt uncomfortable. The bright fluorescent blue from the screen is all that lights the room, putting her pale azure skin seem even bluer in this light. She stands without a word and gets dressed, and Doomfist barely looks her way, at least, until she starts fastening her boots.

“Leaving so soon?” He asks in what would have been a taunting, playful tone, if she even cared to interpret it.

“There is no purpose for me to be here.” She says bluntly, her voice plain and cold, as it has been ever since Moira went through with the project.

“But you could stay, we can talk, can't we?”

“Why? You are not interested in _talking_.” She uttered back at him harshly. He laughed at her.

“You _will_ stay.” He commanded finally, and Widowmaker felt the fingers on her left hand twitch very briefly, as if for a ghost of a second she might have made a fist. After a deep breath, her golden eyes land on him so sharply that he is sure that she can see through him.

“What will we talk about?” She says, more than asks.

“About your mission, of course.”

“What about it?”

“You're stronger. Faster... Better than before... But you still have a mission, remember? Kill Reyes, then kill Oxton.”

“We do not know where either of them are.”

“No, but I'm sure you could find them if you wanted to. You're a smart girl, Widowmaker.”

“ _Woman_.” She corrects at once, sharply. “A girl plays with toys, Akande. I am no _girl._ ”

“And yet, Reaper has made a fool of you even still, as easy as if you were a child.”

“What are you talking about?” She asks sharply... Doomfist smirks, and then laughs.

“You don't remember. Of course you don't. He seduced you, while he was here with us,”

“Impossible-” She interrupted, but he raised a hand to silence her.

“He did. Seduced, you, used you, and then leeched you for information, so that he could have something to trade to Overwatch when he betrayed our cause. Now he serves them dutifully, loyally, and they rely on him, his skill and the information he has on us that he took from you. Not unlike the man you used to call your husband... Corrupted and sightless. Blind. Fools, both of them. You did the job once, didn't you?”

“Yes but-”

“But _nothing,_ Lacroix... You did it once. You can do it again. He used you like a tool. _Punish_ him for it. That's what you want, isn't it?” Akande had moved and was standing now. Circling around the outside of the couch, he stepped into her path, looming over her, his eyes sharp.

“You want people to see you as a woman... Strong... Powerful. Not something to be tricked, not something to be... Betrayed.” His normal hand had come up to touch the back of his knuckles across the side of her cheek- her skin, chilled and cold.

He leaned in then and suddenly kissed her.

Widowmaker suffered down the urge to jerk herself away, and instead, turned her head to the side, taking half a step back from him, but the man looked insulted all the same. His voice grew hard and aggressive, as was far more typical for him.

“Send a message the world won't be able to ignore, _Widowmaker_. Kill the Reaper. Kill Gabriel Reyes, and the rest will fall in line, pins for you to knock down in our path to victory.”

 

She leaves the room then, the idea of sending a message echoing through her mind on repeat.

 

Gabriel is... Nervous. The jet he's flown back home on is fancier than any of the special drop ships that he was usually in, with comfortable seats, tables, drinks, screens... Simple luxuries that he hasn't had in what now feels like forever. It's almost inconceivable to him that he spent more time there than he did in his entire time in Fiji... Time had passed so strangely in the dark, and just as strangely, if differently, in the lit, legal prison cell. He was hungry, too, and that was something promised to him from the moment he was said to arrive... But it wasn't _these_ things that made him nervous. It was Jack, or rather, finally seeing, holding Jack again... Being with him after all that the Soldier had done to get him freed. Jack had done so much for him now- all of Overwatch had, but Jack had been the primary fighter, besides Jesse, Jay and Sombra. The others? They had been guarded, and he knew why. He didn't judge them, and in fact, he knew that if it had been someone else in his shoes, and he had been on the outside looking in, he probably would have agreed with those who decided to cooperate.

And the jet is getting close now. Gabriel was given a chance to clean himself up in the on-board restroom, and he did so as much as he could. The heat from the water filled him with a sense of familiarity and relief, and a clean shaved brought him back to himself, at least mostly, when he looked in the mirror. His skin was still so very pale, his eyes dark, and he still looked ghastly when compared to his normal state of being. Still, he told himself this would all go away very soon, and he'd be back to feeling like normal.

They had even given him a rudimentary suit to wear upon his return- fitting dark grey tones with light grey pinstripes, a white dress shirt, black shoes, red tie. It felt weird to wear a tie again, and though he might have complained otherwise, there was something about wearing it that made him feel human again... Or rather, like he was being treated as one.

Finally, the whir of the jet's light engines began to slow, and the light that peeked in through the windows began to dim. They were here- landing. Gabriel emerged from the restroom to stare at his escorts. They looked less than happy, as they always did, and yet, seeing him dressed up like this seemed to strike them somewhat... As if they had at some point actually forgotten that he was human, at least that he was once, even if it was still up for debate if he still was now, and that they were just now being reminded of it. Two of them looked away, trying to hide whatever emotions they had.

“There is something else, Mr. Reyes.” _Mister. Gabe hadn't heard that title in years._ “You'll be debriefed on the conditions after you're fed, but until that meeting is held, we must accompany you.

“Why? Afraid I'll run off?” Reaper rumbled sarcastically. Gabe nursed the back of his wrists as he waited for a response, noting the pain and the wounds there made from the now-gone handcuffs that refused to heal.

“Just a formality. You'll understand after the meeting.” One of them replied, devoid of any amusement, which made Gabriel sigh somewhat as his attempts to seem human fell deaf upon their ears. He knew that convincing them, and the world, of his true intentions was going to be difficult.

 

Then the door to the ship opens.

A rush of cold, cave-air assaults his senses in a reassuring, familiar way, and his black and red eyes land upon a small collection of familiar faces. Ana, Jesse, Jay, who struggles not to rush him for a hug in an obvious way, and finally, Jack. They all stand there somewhat Casual, except for Jack, who had obviously cleaned himself up for this. A smile suddenly breaks across Gabriel's features, and he steps forward, and after some relenting, the escorts let him brush past them to take the few gathered there in tight hugs. The one with Jack lasts significantly longer... But there is the faint absence of a kiss that Gabe notices at once... There was surely a reason for that, so he doesn't press it, but he clasps the man's shoulder tightly with a hand before it's dropped.. Their eyes lock for the longest moment, and they both struggle not to let their emotions get the better of them.

 

“Angela is waiting for you, Gabriel.” Ana's voice took him away from the moment, perhaps a bit to his relief. “In her lab, as usual. The escorts will have to go with you.”

“...They're going to watch me feed?” he asked.

“That was part of the deal that they let you come back,” Ana replies, as if the escorts are not standing there with them. “That, they have to see and understand. We have to prove that we're not letting you kill people to survive.” She rolls her eyes, because the idea is preposterous. Gabriel nods his head slowly, then glances towards the three UN officials- two men and a woman- with something akin to a wicked smile. The fact that he still sounds like Reaper doesn't help any.

“ _Lucky you,_ ” He mused darkly.

Eventually, his eyes found their way back to Jack... Who was still staring at him. Gabriel realized as he looked at him that Jack had begun to fear _never_ seeing Gabriel outside that cell... Or maybe even alive again.

 

Why should these three pricks steal this moment of reunion from them?

 

He leaned in suddenly and pulled Jack into a deep kiss, arms bound tightly around the soldier and holding him close against his body, reminding himself of the man's strength and warmth. Jack was shocked of course, and at first he was tensed, but after just a second, he seemed to cave- his body grew weak, and Gabe heard just the faintest sound, like a bitter, held back sob before Jack held him back so tightly that he struggled to breathe. The man's face buried into his shoulder, likely staining the suit with a few tears.

 

The three officials _needed_ to see how human he was, and there was no better example than this, and yet, though they may not have wanted to see it, they saw it regardless. It was clear by the way they tensed up that they had not expected it, and even now, weren't sure what to think of it. But Gabriel wasn't interested in showing them anything, or censoring them from himself. He didn't care if they watched, or what they came to know about him. He needed this. He missed this. Jack obviously had so much to say... Things he couldn't and wouldn't say here. Gabriel reached up, rubbing the tears out and away from the man's eyes as he stood a little more upright. “ _It's alright, Sunshine,_ ” Gabriel says quietly. “ _I'm here now. I know. It's okay. I'll find you after, alright?_ ”

Jack swallows the lump in his throat down hard, and nods. “Later, then.” He says, regaining his composure as he throws the three escorts a steely glare. Finally, Ana leads them all off, and they head towards Angela's lab, as expected.

 

When he arrives, he realizes that the lab has been modified somewhat. The room where he usually feeds is still all the way at the back, but many of the work stations between the front and back there have been rearranged or reorganized. At the moment, no one's in here- it's completely vacant, as if no one's working today, which he finds strange. Medics were almost always here, and sometimes with patients, or scientists, who worked not far away in a much bigger facility, which he'd seen with Katie. “What's going on in here?” Gabriel asks of Ana as they walk.

“The UN has put us under surveillance, Gabriel. They want to know what we're doing, with whom, and when, and how. There have needed to be some changes to make that a possibility.”

“And you're allowing it?”

“We haven't much choice, have we? After all... I suppose if we're going to ask the UN to trust us, we have to show them why they should, and trust _them_ as well,” _Gabriel can't help but think that the UN would have killed him if Sombra hadn't helped. Should they be trusted at all?_ “So there have been some changes. Nothing too drastic, so you should be able to find your way around.”

As could all the cameras, he realized. He could see them now, tiny black orbs that lingered in the corners and ceilings of every room. He couldn't help but to feel like he was being watched by the detached eyes of spiders. In the back, where he usually fed, the walls had been replaced with frosted glass and metal frames, to provide a modicum of privacy within, but in truth, there were cameras even there. The twin doors opened to permit him and to let the others in behind him. Ana quietly dismissed herself, obviously having no interest in seeing this herself. After all, it was no secret that she'd much prefer remember Gabriel as she had known him- human. There were six tables laid out in front of him, all side by side from left to right, all metal tables meant for autopsies. As usual, around the room were white cabinets and counters, a few notebooks here and there. It was as if he was in Angela's personal cocoon, but less personal and comfortable than her private office, where they usually consulted. On each table, a body draped with a black cloth from head to toe that gave away their purpose, and status. Naturally, the three UN escorts demanded to see one of them before the feeding, just to get a feel for what was actually going on here. Legal scientific donations to Overwatch, it turned out. There was nothing here about what they were doing that was illegal, as, Gabriel's feeding was still very much a science to all of them, and it was still necessary for Overwatch's ongoing function. Moreover, it kept him healthy, well fed, and made it so that he didn't _have_ to kill to feed. At least most of the time, which Angela didn't mention. All the while she looked at him, taken aback by his state of starvation. The missing arms and lingering wounds were a true fascination, and horror for her. He saw her jotting down notes as they walked, her blue eyes lingering upon him worriedly as they spoke. He offered her a small, weak smile, knowing that it was only because of her insistence that they had given him _any_ form of feeding in that cell alone, and that without it, he'd have surely died, regardless how minimal and inhumane it had been.

“Gabriel, whenever you're ready.” She said finally, breaking Gabriel out of his trance. Now, in the presence of them, his hunger had redoubled itself, and made itself overly apparent in not only his mind, but his appearance and body language as well. He lurked near to them, looming over one of the tables as his hands trembled out to the sides, as if he dared not touch it. But then, he was given permission to do exactly that, and it felt like every fiber of his being finally tore itself free of the feeble conscience holding it together. The three watched, even throwing themselves back against the glass walls of the chamber as Gabriel suddenly crawled onto the table nearest to him. Normally he would have ghosted onto it and assumed that typical wraith form, but after so long of so much hunger, he couldn't even manage that much. His pupils primed upon the figure beneath him, still draped in that black cloth as if for decency to the three onlookers, outside of Angela, who had seen it and worse many times before. Hands latched firmly onto either side of the table, clamping on to the metal and cloth as a means to hold himself upright. From the expressions on the UN's faces, it looked like they expected him to just _tear_ into the body with his teeth.

What happened instead was possibly more horrifying.

Gabriel's jaw opened, and when it did, it didn't stop. The skin tore, and the muscle beneath that, until the jaw was wider than it ever should have possibly been. This was gruesome, enough that it even made Angela cringe and look away somewhat. As usual, at first nothing seemed to happen, but then, the cloth gave away some of what must be happening beneath. It seemed to thrum and tremble, upwards as if being pulled by an invisible wind towards Gabriel, rolling and undulating with this bizarre force that radiated downward from his gaping jaw. Soon, it could not resist the pull, and the cloth flipped up on the sides, away from the corpse, revealing the body beneath. Before their eyes, it began to disintegrate, bits and pieces of it seeping up and into Gabriel, not his mouth exactly, but into _him_. Any piece it could reach, from his face, to his clawing hands, to seeping in through the very fabric of his suit.

And moreover, his body began to _change_. It wasn't fast, after all, Gabriel was dying, so the first that came back was the bare necessities of his frame. The wounds at his wrists began to burn a familiar pitch black smoke, and through his shoulder, one could see the inky black pollution plume out as the shot was healed. His hands released the table, and soon, he was scrambling to the next, the cloth flying off the table in the process entirely- and in its wake, a husk, little more than bone, which caused Angela to write down a few more notes in that lined book of hers.

He went from body to body, slowly healing, his body growing denser, healthier, darker... By the fourth body, his smoke had returned in full force, revealing his second set of arms as his body became more and more ghost-like, until he had finally achieved that _full_ wraith that he had been denied for so long. Then he was finally satiated, he crawled back and away, reforming slowly in the corner of the room, his suit slightly disheveled, but still on. It was never easy to wraith items that weren't bound to him- like his coat and guns- but it was possible... Yet, doing so always took more effort, as it had always made him sick when he had done it with Widow, and later, Morrison. It was why he had deliberately avoided it with Rosa, but here, now, in front of these people?

They'd seen him nude far more than he ever thought fair, to the point where at some time during his imprisonment, he had stopped feeling any kind of embarrassment or any form of privacy. Now? Now he was home, and they could well piss off for all he cared. His body was _his own_ , and that was how it should remain. That was what everyone else got, wasn't it? Whose business was it what he did with his own body or who he shared it with? It was never something that should have been taken from him, he realized now as he glared at them from across the space. He forced himself to look away, to avoid letting his rage get the better of him. These three weren't directly responsible for what had happened to him... He couldn't take it out on them.

“It's done. What are you looking at?” He snapped at them as they gawked. They seemed besides themselves, as if they'd watched some kind of horror just now- and it _was_ horrifying, but to keep staring was simply rude as far as he's concerned. They looked away, reluctantly.

“Escorts, if you would please wait just outside. I have to check Gabriel's vitals before I clear him to leave.” Angela said in that authoritative doctor's tone, and respectfully, the three departed the room, yet did not stray far from it. The second that they had, Angela came forward and threw her arms around him.

“ _Gabriel,_ ” She half sobbed, now letting her emotions show. “ _I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea- I couldn't- none of us knew or dreamed that they would do this to you. We couldn't find you- I am... It is my fault-”_

“Hey! Hey...” Gabe stammered down at the pale blond woman, his eyes softening. His arms came around her. “Look. It's okay. No one knew. As you said, no one could have known or would have guessed it... But I did lot of terrible things-”

“ _You're defending them!?_ ” She half-cried as she looked up towards him. His brows lofted in surprise at the rage he saw in her eyes.

“N-No! No, of course not. I'm just saying that when it comes to me, _no one_ knows how to act. No one knows what to expect of me or how they should treat me. It's easier for people to weigh on the side of paranoia than to risk some kind of backfire... When Overwatch first took me in, they put me in cuffs too, remember?”

“Yes but _we_ didn't starve you, Gabriel- ah... I mean... Not... Not like- I didn't mean...” Angela recalls that she had in fact starved him when he first arrived in Fiji, and the remourse was obvious in her eyes.

“It wasn't _like_ this, I know... But it was a study. It was a precaution. They're human _too_ , Angela. They just need to be made to understand. It's not going to be easy. None of this is-” _Christ, I'm beginning to sound just like Jack._ “Besides... I'm no fool, Angela. I know that if it wasn't for you, and if it wasn't for the attack-” he refused to drop Sombra's name here, despite that it was obvious to him that she was part of what happened at Alcatraz, “they might not have fed me at all. You did what you could, and I survived because of it. Thank you. Thank you for organizing this.”

Finally, she released him and stepped back half a foot and wiped her eyes.

“I was... Afraid. I was scared that when we lost contact with you that I had sent you away to your death. That, again, I had failed you and abandoned you to die.”

“You have never abandoned me, Angela. You're one of the few people who was always in my corner fighting for me. Always...” Gabriel paused, looking down some, then back at her. “When I had you and Jack imprisoned in Moscow, it wasn't _Jack_ who was trying to call me home. Even as I tortured him, and tortured you both, you were the one who stood up to me and reminded me that we were all family once. _You_ were the one watching as I tore myself up, trying to get back to the one person tying me back to Talon. You were the _only_ one out of everyone who saw the _truth_ behind my mask, Angela. If not for you, I wouldn't even _be_ here right now... You have given me so much- you've given so much _back_ to me... I know who I am, and what I lost. I know what I was missing all those years ago. _You_ took the monster in me and put the _man_ back in control, Angela... There isn't anything I could say or do that could possibly _express_ how much that means to me.” Silent tears fell down either of her cheeks as she looked up at him, hearing him confess so openly how much he attributed to her. How grateful he was for everything that she had done. She had needed to hear it, and it was obvious. “Come here.” He said gently, and she was suddenly in his arms again, sobbing quietly into his chest. His fingers gently cradled the back of her head. “You don't owe me anything, Angela. If anything, I am the one who owes you everything. And I'm here now... So stop these silly little tears.” He said, voice living somewhat jovially to try and comfort her, and she laughed, reaching up to wipe them away from her eyes. Gabriel leaned forward and pressed a small, chaste kiss to her forehead. “Now go find Genji and tell that boy to bring you something warm to drink.”

“Oh, that I could.” She half-laughed, still trying to get her emotions under control. “He's in Japan, on a mission. If you ask me, he's probably just enjoying new-year festivities,” she laughed again, and Gabe laughed with her.

 

Half an hour later, Gabriel's sitting in a meeting with everyone, including the three UN officials who had been escorting him. Jack can't stop staring at how much _better_ Gabriel looks in his suit now that he's properly fed. Beneath the table, Gabe nudges his ankle to make him look away, and the Soldier does, if hesitantly. Between the two groups, the paperwork, all signed except for what Gabe needs to sign himself

“The cameras will remain on at all hours,” Drones one of the escorts. “Including those that have been installed into Mr. Reyes' quarters.” Gabe's eyes comb over the documents thoroughly as the other talks. Mostly, he's looking for anything that gives them a random right to just execute him whenever they see fit. Luckily, he finds no such thing. It seems to him by what he reads that the UN is actually making an effort to be civil, and almost just in these measures. “The cameras in his room are as a precaution, only, and will remain on until the UN no longer has a concern about his loyalties and intentions. As expected all feeding sessions will be monitored by camera, along with frequency and quantity. All of his medical reports will be delivered to us twice a week by digital transfer, including any new updates, if any. If any progress is made into the case you are building towards his... Innocence, as it were, those updates will also be sent to the UN promptly, where they can be logged and investigated ourselves. Mr. Reyes is required by this document to spend his time _only_ in the company of other Overwatch or UN officials, and if he is alone, it is because he is commuting to a place where he is required to be, or because he is in his quarters. In other words, no _loitering_. If he must leave the base at any point, he may only do so with UN approval and surveillance... Which will be recorded with the supplied device.” Device? There was a box on the table between them, black leather and lacking any embellishment, no bigger than that of a small watch box.

“Additionally, he is required, for safety purposes, to sleep in his room and his room _only._ ” That one felt... specific, as if they were going to specifically tell him not to sleep with Jack, or anyone else for that matter. They were probably assuming it meant _no sex_ , given that his room was lined with cameras backed by watching eyes... And that _was_ what it meant, didn't it? Gabriel wasn't about to find himself in another intimate situation with someone watching... Especially not the UN. Was his bathroom even safe? He had to wonder... And how was this going to impact his relationship with Jack? Was their relationship even _allowed?_

“A daily report of his activities will be made by one of our staff who compiles the days observations, and this will go on for approximately one month, or until we're satisfied with his loyalty and intentions.” Again, those two words resurface. “Additionally, if at any point these conditions are compromised, or if any amount of detail or information is omitted, this contract is considered breached, and we will take full necessary action to secure control, again. Is this understood?”

“Yes.” Said just about everyone there. Gabriel murmured it, his mind still going over the details of what having no privacy would mean now that he was back in a civil situation. As he sat there, the device in the box was slid towards him, and he reached out and his thumbs slid over its surface before he finally opened it. There was a pin- obviously a small camera that was meant to clip onto his clothing... But it wasn't the camera that surprised him... It was that beside that was something he hadn't seen or expected to see in ages... Dog tags. Not the originals, which he hadn't seen of or heard of in ages, but new, freshly minted pieces of steel.

 

**Gabriel Reyes**

**“Reaper”**

**Jr. Overwatch Operative**

 

Below that, in unbolded text far smaller than the rest, a list of his lifelong achievements.

 

**SFC US Army, S.E.P Captain, Acting Commander OW, Blackwatch Commander,**

 

And attached to that, something he had not expected to see.

 

**Former Talon Operative – Special Intel.**

 

In a way, he wondered if it was listed as a warning, or as one of his achievements. He realized, if slowly, that it had been put there to label him as a Talon defector, and in that, it mean that he had _specialized_ information which was part of why he was officially allied with Overwatch.

In a nutshell, it was why the UN saw him as a special case which should be given some exception to. They were actually _acknowledging_ the truth, though it had not been proven yet, and were treating him accordingly. It made the man smile, if unexpectedly, and at once, he took them, and slipped the tags on over his head. As for the camera- a small, nondescript thing, another spider-eye as he'd continue to think of them, pinned like a tiny stud ear-ring through the fabric of his chest pocket. His eyes glanced to the three across from him as if to say, _like this?_ One of them nodded, and he slid the now empty box back.

 

After all the paperwork was signed, he did as promised, and waited for Jack outside the room as the escorts got back on their jet and left. Gabriel forced down the urge to throw himself into another embrace with the Soldier, who still beams, at least a little, to see him here.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Jackie,” Gabriel purrs, smiling at him as they start the long walk back to Gabriel's chambers as if to see how bad the damage is... Or rather, how many cameras there are.

“I guess I feel like I have... I tried so hard, Gabe. I had no idea it would work.”

“You were probably willing to do anything-”

“I _was._ I...” Jack reached out, taking his arm and turning him so that they could face each other. “When you said that you deserved this, that you _deserved_ what they were doing to you... That you deserved to die... I couldn't take it. I couldn't bare the idea that they had made you feel that way, and that we were just going to let it happen.”

“Jackie-”

“No. Listen- Gabe... I don't _ever_ want to hear you talk that way again. You and me are in this together now, aren't we?”

“Well yes, but-”

“ _No buts_. I'm not going to let you give up on yourself now, after all we've been through, after how far we've come. All you and I have ever done is fight. You telling me that you're going to just throw in the towel as soon as they've got you pinned down?”

“I turned myself in, Jack... For all of this. For everyone. I guess I felt like I needed to pay for what I've done-”

“It isn't _your_ fault! You have to feed to survive, and you weren't yourself. All those terrible things you did, you did because you were manipulated!”

“Was I?” Gabe asks, his chestnut eyes flicking between the sapphires in front of him. “Before Moira ever arrived... Before you were First Strike Commander... There were things I did, Jack. People I tortured. Crimes I committed-”

“Crimes you committed to _save_ the human _race_ , Gabriel!”

“ _To have my revenge, Jack_. Don't kid yourself. You know it to be true just as well as I do- I wanted the omnics dead, all of them. Even the rebels who walk with us today. I wanted them gone because I hated what had happened to my family. I felt like they were deliberately responsible. That was the only reason I ever became Military. It's the only reason I ever volunteered for SEP. Was I being the good guy when I hired Moira and didn't tell you what she was doing to me?”

“You were trying to spare me what you were going through-”

“ _And what did it lead to, Jack?_ Please...” Gabriel leaned in, pressing his forehead against Jack's. “You've been making excuses for me for so long, Jackie. I love you... But I've come to accept what and who I am, and what I've done. Don't be blind to my flaws... I need to see them, too. I was not a good man before... I'm a better man now. And I'm going to _be_ better... For you.”

He saw the faint drop in Jack's shoulders that suggested the onset of emotions, and the old Soldier looked down with a rough sigh. “Goddamnit, stop it, Gabe. The UN is going to think I'm some kind of emotional pansy. We're not even suppose to be- that thing at the ship...”

“I kissed you.” Gabe uttered shortly.

“I know, I just mean...”

“ _I know._ They don't like it. They don't like that they're going to feel like you did this for ulterior motives... And I don't care. I love you, and I'm not afraid of it. We just won't be able to... To _do_ anything for a while.”

“They don't want the world to know.”

“They told you that?” Gabe asks.

“Ex-Terrorist falls in love with a Dead Hero who _abandoned_ the world for years, then they both come back and expect the world to trust their motives while they sleep in each other's beds-”

“You're right,” Gabe said, wincing somewhat, “It doesn't sell very well does it?”

“We're not going to convince anyone of your intentions if we keep slipping like this.”

“... I... Suppose you're right.” Gabriel sighs. “Shall we then? See the damages?” Jack finally nodded, and they continued to stride through the base, meeting a few familiar faces along the way, many who greeted him with hugs. Katie and Sombra among them- though Sombra's hug was small and short-lived, as if holding on any longer might admit that she had grown fond of his kinship.

 

It was worse than Gabriel expected, as there were cameras not only in the corner of every room, but undoubtedly around the room as well in hidden locations, as some of his things had been moved slightly- tampered with. Even his bathroom wasn't safe, which left any kind of self indulgence out of the picture. This was going to be a lot harder than he expected.

Sure, he hadn't done anything in prison, but he wasn't healthy there, and nor had he had the allure of Jack there to taunt him.

 

And it was hard.

 

The first few days, Gabriel struggled just to contain himself. He had to remind himself constantly that this wasn't like before, that he couldn't simply go where he wanted and when he wanted to, and that no matter where he went, he was watched. Jack and he couldn't _be_ like they were before, despite that they both obviously felt the need to. So Gabriel went to his meetings, his training sessions with Jay and his feeding sessions with Angela, and saw Jack only sparingly when their paths crossed at some point during the week. It was painful for them both. He saw longing in the Soldier's eyes every time their glances met. There is a pain here that Gabriel can't express... Something like being in reach of something he's forbidden to have. In a way, this feels like torture to, but he _wants_ to understand why it's necessary. Every time he tries to sort though it, he's lost in a sea of memories and what-ifs.

 

What _if_ he had never decided to take up the Overwatch cause after SEP? What if he and Jack had simply gone home together... Had a farm, made a family somehow? What would it have been like to grow up so simply, with the comparatively simple genetic issues that SEP had given him versus the creature that Moira had turned him into? What would it had been like to watch Rosa grow into their later years with him? Watch her get married and have children? Who _were_ those people that he, as Reaper, used to visit around the holiday times? Would he ever actually know who they were, and was it safe for him to know, or go looking for them? What if it was possible that they were _actually_ his family? And even if they were, would he be willing to go to them after decades of having never known who they were- and if they did know who he was, which was more or less a guarantee at this point, would they even welcome him into their lives, or drive him away as an ugly beast?

Even meditating the way that Genji had helped him to learn months ago was a struggle here, knowing that at every moment he did it, someone was watching. And, doing it on his bed left something to be desired. Needless to say, going out onto the grassy mountain flat they'd been on before was out of the question without a legitimate reason to go there.

 

By the end of the week, however, Winston has something for him: a new mission. After all, he was here to work, and the UN and the world needed to see that. The mission wasn't anything super critical, but it was to do with Talon Intelligence, which was obviously his area of expertise.

“You'll be going with Agent Shimada, together, as per protocol. I don't expect there to be much interference, but your orders are to put down anyone in your way... Without fatalities, if at all possible. I think it's important for the UN to see that you _can_ do your job without killing _everyone_.” Winston was instructing. Though their relationship hadn't improved much, there was a sort of respect that had formed between Gabriel and the scientist that had made it easier for him to tolerate being commanded by the ape.

“Understood, Sir.”

“Without Jinx, Talon is down a hacker, and Sombra is doing what she can to find out as much as possible. However, we have a reason to believe that Talon may still have records of... Of whatever they were doing to him prior to his... Uh... _Disappearance._ Find that intelligence, if you can. We're sending you to a known Talon hub on the edge of Greenland.-”

“Sounds cold.” Genji remarked, and Winston shrugged.

“You'll be underground, but yes. We'll see that you're both properly suited for the task.”

“What's in Greenland? Why there?” Gabriel asks, leaning forward in his seat, fingers slightly interlaced.

“We suspect that _that_ is where they first took him after he was captured. They may still have records there of what happened and what was said. Namely, we might find out where Talon intended to employ him. They didn't simply _need_ a hacker to replace Sombra... I mean. Of course they did, but, they had to have had a job in mind specifically for him, or else they wouldn't have been so hasty to replace her.”

“But they didn't trust Sombra towards the end, so they never gave her the job.” Gabe deduces in an instant, nodding some.

“Exactly. If they have other plans-”

“ _Of course they do._ ” Reaper rumbles back. Talon never went anywhere _without_ a plan. For a long time, he had been the one to see to that.

“ _If_ they have plans,” Winston continued, “We need to know what they are, and how to stop them. I will be sending Sombra with you on the ship, and Angela as well. Should you take any injuries, she can treat you on the ship. Consider this something of a stealth mission, Gentlemen. I don't expect to hear about any attacks or outbreaks unless something actually happens. Understood?”

 

“Sir, Yes Sir.” The two chorus.

 

Finally, something to do to vent his abilities again. A chance to get out and to move, to put his muscle back to proper use...

 

And to distract him from the nagging wants swirling around in his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I know a lot of you were looking forward to this. This chapter was a little bit lighter themed, but obviously it still comes with its own new challenges.
> 
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	46. Savory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Mild Torture themes.

It's mid-morning when finally the mission gets underway. Winston says that this will make it easier for them to land without being detected later on, though Gabriel can't quite understand how- wouldn't that make it early morning, or something, in Greenland? When people were just getting up to do work? Gabriel would have preferred a night landing, as usual. Regardless, he trusted that the scientist knew what he was doing, and boarded the ship anyway. As usual, the interior was dark grey metal with black and red furnishings, the occasional light here and there to keep the cabin lit. The seats all ran along the sides, and in the center of the room was something of a planning table with a built in holo-screen that would display various statistics: Landing conditions, location, time of day, humidity, and various statistics of the ship itself. For Gabriel, it became a resting space for his coffee, and nothing more. Once more, he was dressed in solid white. It was a strange thing for him, to see himself in anything that wasn't black or red, but the look was strangely growing on him. And besides, it did a good job of camouflaging him against the snow, and it was significantly warmer against him frame than the rest. His boots even had a thick layer of warmth between his skin and the actual armor of the boot itself, as did his gauntlets. His hood and neck were afforded a little more warmth in the form of something like fake fur to keep the heat in- not that he generated much of it at all.

 _Nothing like the heat Jack could,_ he lamented quietly. The feel of Jack's flesh against his was such a distant memory now, and he let his eyes close if just for a moment to put himself back in that place. Jack, pressed closed against him in any number of scenarios, and how they'd been through the years. The feel of his body heat without even seeing him to know he was there. The touch of a hand to his shoulder when he struggled through hard times. The gentle kiss to remind him that he was there... Jack had done all of this for him. All of Overwatch, and everything that had come afterwards. Jack had gone mad with rage over what had happened, and used that anger to shield himself against the pain as much as he could. Gabriel had _broken_ him by what happened- by what he still felt he had helped to do.

_Perhaps it was better, that Jack should have let him go?_

Taunting words like lead settled into his gut, dragging his mood downward. His eyes opened again and settled motionlessly upon the floor. Jack had wanted to marry him- maybe right after SEP, but he put that on hold... Why? Because Gabriel wanted something else. Something more self-suiting. At that point he was on the verge of having the revenge he felt he needed, and the justice that Henrique deserved. He was too blind to see that in the world where his world revolved around that one thing, _Jack's_ world revolved around _him._ When Gabriel had been looking forward, Jack's attention had always been fixated on the man himself... Ever since they had fallen in love. Gabriel had never quite given Jack what he wanted... A life alone, quiet, together. No distractions... No Overwatch to run, no world to save. Just them, in a quiet house somewhere to be together without their worries... It was such an idyllic thought that Gabriel struggled at the emotion it forced into him, and he pressed his face into his gloved palms, metal claws curling up over the dome of his head, into the undercut hair that fell slightly forward over his forehead.

“You alright, amigo?”

It was an unexpected question from an unlikely source. Sombra had boarded at some point during his daydream, and now stood nearby, her figure mildly outlined by the white-blue light of the holo-screen table nearby.

“Ah... I'm fine, Olivia,” he rumbled back. She seemed to assess how much of a lie his statement was before reaching out for his coffee and handing it over to him. He looked like he could use it, and so, he took it after a small, knowing look. “I know this must be rough for you.”

“It wasn't an invitation for a talk.” He murmured darkly. After all, he was wearing a body camera, as he always was these days. Sombra seemed to take the hint and sighed gently, sitting down next to him with her own drink.

“You should wear white more often. It looks good on you.” She complimented shortly before propping her feet up on the table and opening up a holo-screen on her hand and preoccupying herself. Minutes later, Genji and Angela arrived, and Gabe was surprised to see that Genji was actually wearing full clothing this time- it seemed that the more human parts of his form still required some kind of insulation despite all of his inner mechanics. Then, they were in the air. Short, rectangular windows at the height of the cabin revealed glimpses of the world beyond as they left the cave of the base and erupted into it. Fog, everywhere, so thick and heavy that Gabe wondered how anyone could comfortably, confidently navigate through it. It must be snowing below, he thought. After an hour, they had broken the cloud cover entirely and emerged into the sun. Rivers of gilded light filtered through the glass and onto their quiet figures and slowly slid across the floor as the sun rose faster than they could flee from it as they flew west, across the lands and ocean between Italy and Greenland. He had never been especially fond of cold places, but since he generated so little of his own body heat, he hated them even more now than he did before. The flight was boring and uneventful, but there was a sense of amusement for him to know that if _he_ was this bored, how bored had to have been the people who were assigned to endlessly watch the body camera he was forced to wear, knowing that it may not move beyond a bump here or there thanks to the turbulence.

 

He had been somewhere in a daydream when a hand touched his shoulder with a feather-light sort of gentility. Angela, naturally.

“Gabriel, the captain says we will be arriving soon. We need to go over parameters again.” Her voice had a way of bringing him out of his haze with a startling amount of ease.

“Alright.” He rumbled, finally moving to stand, and slipping up to the table's edge. Genji was already there, his face plate off, coat hood down. Like Gabriel, he was dressed almost entirely in white. “The place we are going is a now defunct water processing plant. It hasn't been used in decades, but our sources say that it has a vast underground, which is traditionally what Talon seems to go for. They seem to prefer cold or remote locations for the security that they offer from outsiders.

“Why would Talon want a Water Processing Plant?” Angela asks, and Gabriel tilts his head.

“Because they do more than just attack places, Angela. With O'Deorain on their side, they have the ability to turn almost anyone they want into their agent. A water processing plant, even a defunct one, would have laboratories that she could make use of. Secure chambers, even for viewing, or testing. Here, they could potentially mass-produce the chemicals they were using to drug me, and others. We don't quite know how many people in Talon's service are there willingly. Moreover, processing plants are hard to deconstruct, usually because they're situated on or near a large waterway... It is likely that whoever was running the town was much more keen on the idea of simply selling the property to an inconspicuous seeming buyer rather than dealing with the hazards of deconstructing it themselves.”

“That's insightful, for someone who's never been in that field.” Sombra remarks as she looks over to Gabriel. The man snorts slightly, with a half shrug.

“Before the military, I was going into law enforcement. There were quite a few classes I had to take that I didn't necessarily want to be in. I suppose you could say I paid attention. There are a lot of rules and laws that go into owning, and running, a water treatment plant- or any kind of utility, I guess you'd say. Deconstructing them is just as difficult... Hazardous waste and all that. But a private owner doesn't have to have their product spread to the masses, and doesn't have to deconstruct... Which means that they don't have to deal with inspections.”

“...Allowing them to produce whatever they want there.” Angela deduces quickly, a sort of grim look coming onto her features.

“Exactly.”

“But the river has been diverted,” Genji interrupts, “So either they're not using water, or, they're using so little of it that it is inconsequential to the populace. Regardless, our mission here is not to find out what they're doing with it-”

“Are we _really_ going to pass up the opportunity?” Reaper asks suddenly.

“ _This_ is a stealth mission,” Genji reminds firmly, his eyes pinning themselves on Gabriel, who relents. “And we are here to see if they brought Jinx here, and if so, why. However, if we _do_ find something of importance, we can at least report it. Not intervene... That is the job here.”

Gabriel didn't like it when he was asked to simply watch and not do something, especially not when he knew that there likely was something he could do... But he could not afford to go rogue on this mission like he had on a couple others. Not with the UN watching and gauging his every move. They needed to know he could follow orders and be trusted, after all, though the idea of Genji giving him orders bothered him somewhat. No one had officially been put in charge of this mission, as they were expected to work together here. He dipped his head. “Very well.”

 

Finally, the first glimpse of the land appeared in the distance in one of the windows, and the four of them seemed to line up along side them. There were glaciers large and small, various shades of sheet white and lightning blue. Scattered like pebbles across a path, smaller broken pieces of ice drifted around the edges of the shoreline, getting smaller and thinner as the ocean got deeper and bluer. Then, erupting as if new plants from the grasp of winter, the town revealed itself in a sudden splash of color. Every building was pained as if part of a grand gem, red, yellow, blue, green... Every color that Gabriel could imagine was here, and each one was topped with a black roof, no doubt meant to soak in whatever heat they could from the sunlight. Streets were made of ancient looking cobbled stone, and he couldn't see a single traditional vehicle in sight as they got closer. Everything there looked as if it was made for snow, and the closer they ventured, the more that light-fueled snowmobiles made themselves apparent sitting in people's driveways. The ship had entered stealth long before now, so much so that it didn't even cast a shadow over the town nor make a sound as they moved, or at least, so little of a sound that no one would notice.

“This place is amazing.” Genji said at once, finding beauty in the rudimentary where Gabriel could see the difficulty of living here. “These people could move,” the cyborg said, “And live comfortably somewhere else... But they don't. They choose to live here and live this way- proudly... That is an incredible thing, don't you think?” He said, clearly fond of it, and as Gabriel looked on, the man was right. No one who hated their lives or their homes would take care of them the way these people seemed to. It seemed to him that these were the kind of people he and Jack were always wanting to fight for. To save.

 

Before anyone else could input on it, the water plant came into view.

Or, rather, what it had been turned into.

 

It seemed that all of their careful deliberation on what it was or what it was being used for was not only slightly, but completely wrong. The water treatment plant had been completely remodeled into someones home, and not only a home, but a massive mansion of sorts. A private buyer? Undoubtedly. Talon? Unquestionably. But who, and why here? All four of them stared in shock at this place, which looked like some kind of ultra-modern castle as opposed to any kind of defunct plant. Whoever it was that had purchased it had obviously had enough money to simply _tear down_ the plant and make whatever they wanted of the land, possibly without the proper rules or regulations... Or, possibly they'd simply had enough money to do it properly but discretely.

“Is _that_ it?” Sombra asked incredulously.

“That's it.” Genji confirmed, glancing towards Gabriel. “Who could live here?”

Gabe shook his head, having no idea. As a rule, Talon's higher up didn't talk about their living places, mostly because they were almost never there, which meant that this place, for all its magnificence, was probably empty too. At least on the surface.

“Well there's only one way to find out.” Angela says. “And you need to go inside anyway. Shall we, then?”

The ship was maneuvering to land on a flat, rocky outcropping somewhere above the town, which he and Genji could navigate down from with relative ease and without being noticed. The two prepared themselves, Genji by putting on his face plate and pulling up his hood, and Gabriel doing likewise with his own mask and hood. The ship landed with a thud, and Sombra moved off towards the table once more, and began pulling up any number of windows.

“I'm going to start my initial hack now. I'm going to see if I can find a full blueprint of the structure to help guide to you. It might be easier for you to take one of my devices in with you.” She has reached into a small pouch on her hip and revealed something that looks a lot like a beetle. She holds it out to Gabriel, and he glances at the thing- a small, purple and pink metal creature of wiring and cameras, lights and immeasurably small technology. It's no bigger than a quarter, and fits easily into a pocket. “When you get inside, push the button on it's head and let it go. It will do work on its own while you two do yours.” She explains, and Gabriel nods, stashing the small device away and turning towards the door.

“It looks like there's a power shed on the back east side of the building, like a back-up generator. There's probably a way in through there.” She says as she surveys a surface scan put out by the ship itself, which the ship now displays on the table in three-dimensional format with blue and white lines, numbers indicating height and directions.

“I'll be here when you get back.” Angela says to them both, but her eyes are on Genji, who has his attention focused on her. It's clear that the two are at least mildly concerned about each other. After all, however simple the mission seemed, anything could happen at any time, and anything could go wrong. They had to be prepared that something might actually happen, and that Angela would be required to help them in any bad situation. Gabriel looked away from them, because seeing them like that, so in love, reminded him of Jack in a way that he simply couldn't have him.

But Jack wasn't here, and this mission was most likely going to be harmless. Gabriel kept that in his mind as he turned back towards the door. This was his job- literally. He'd received a notice sometime after his new dog tags had been administered to him that he was going to start being paid again. Talon paid him, but it had always been cash, and he had seldom used it- after all, it wasn't like he went places or bought anything for himself. Everything he needed, he had simply by being in the organization. And all of that money had become forfeit as soon as he had left. It hadn't even occurred to him to start being paid in Overwatch, but now that Overwatch was being properly funded- instead of underground funded as it was before- he could properly be paid. It felt strange to him to be legally alive, again, he thought... Even if he wasn't really allowed to go anywhere. Jack had gotten the same treatment, though Gabe hadn't even thought to ask Jack how he'd managed while he was a vigilante... He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

“I'm going to enter you into stealth for just a few minutes.” Sombra said, “Long enough for you to get down there, but it wont last once you get inside. You'll have to be careful.”

The cargo door opened then for just a few seconds with a rush of air so cold that it made Gabriel shudder immediately. Negative three felt like negative fifteen, and the _sun_ was out. Gabe had to remind himself how far north they were, and that most likely, things would be better once they got into the home and underground... If there even was an underground anymore. A buzz rolled through the air, and soon, they, their gear, and everything around them shimmered into a near complete invisibility. Looking down at his own claws, Gabriel marveled at the technology. Now and then, he would see a brief glimmer of light, not unlike how he had seen Sombra stealth herself before, in bright magenta.

“ _Comm check._ ” Sombra echoed into their ears as the door closed behind them, reminding them to get going. Genji had obviously done this before, because he showed no surprise in the stealth she had afforded to them.

“Copy.” Both men respond, and soon they are moving, fleeting downwards over a snow covered hill as lightly as they were able. The ship, in stealth, remained quiet behind them, and invisible, and the only thing that might give them away were the barely-there marks their feet left in the stone with its slight cover of snow. Likely, the wind that brushed over the top of the hill would drift the evidence away in minutes. Soon, the shadow of the house overtook the two, and they reached the small attached power shed that she had mentioned. It was closed and padlocked from the outside of course, but Genji quickly looked up and down at the shed, looking for a way in. It was made of wood with reinforcing metal here and there along the beams, well taken care of. A sturdy structure with some windows at the top of the wall- too high up for either of them to reach from the ground floor.. A stealth mission meant that they couldn't break in, so they would have to be more creative.

“Gabriel... Do you think you could use your abilities to unlock the padlock?” He asked, and Gabe looked down, considering the item.

“Not without breaking it... But I might be able to get in and unlock the window. You can climb through afterwards.”

“Do it.” Genji said, and suddenly, Reaper was in motion. Finding a way in sounded simple in theory, but it wasn't. This place was no older than a few years at most, and Reaper had never even heard of it when he was in the business... But then, Talon only sent him where he was needed, and where there wasn't a battle, he seldom went. He used what invisibility he had for now to skirt around the building until he found a vent higher up that lead to the second floor. He found his way in, and as usual, he had to be fast. The second he was out of the open, Sombra's little shimmer vanished, and his smoke became obvious. It reminded him that Sombra had given him a job to do. Finding his way back down to the first floor, he found the door into the power shed, locked, but only with a simple push lock that he could undo from his side. After a quick glance around, he saw no one, and no cameras... Deftly, he slipped down out of the ceiling vent and unlocked the door and slipped inside. A hand delved then into his pocket and revealed the small beetle Sombra had given him. As instructed, he pushed the small, round, purple button its head and held his palm out. At once, the thing lit up and fluttered and buzzed away.

“You should be getting feed now, Sombra.”

“ _Copy. Are you in?_ ”

“I am, but I am getting Shimada in now,” he replied, looking towards the windows, which were still quite high up. The room itself had a large generator, larger than he expected, currently off as the building was supplied with normal power. It was covered in dust and suggested it hadn't even needed to be used in quite a long time. He was moving then, scaling the wall by pushing himself off of the generator and up the length of the wall, eventually reaching up to unlock one of the larger windows. Claws nudged it open, and seconds later, one of Genji's metalic hands latched around it and pushed it up and open. The cyborg then crawled in, easily and deftly dropping down onto the floor and rising to his feet to stand beside Gabriel.

“I will move through the surface levels,” Genji said quietly. “You can move faster through the house than I can, so I think you should go below the surface... See what's there, and if I can even get in with you. Find the way down, if you can.”

Gabriel nods wordlessly, and at once and ghosts away, seeping through the door that Genji soon walks through.

“ _It appears empty._ ” Genji whispers, his head darting as he looks for any sign of anyone in the space. “No visible cameras.”

“ _Copy,_ ” Sombra says over their comms, “I'm not reading anyone on the surface, or any life of any kind. No signals. This place has been cold for a while, but I can't scan the lower sectors yet, so be careful.” Which Gabriel intended to do anyway. After all, there could still be traps, if anyone was suspecting that Overwatch would go looking for them, and at this point, it wasn't a question anymore. Talon had to know that they would resume the hunt as soon as Gabriel was released, and that detail had become public knowledge in the last few days, much to the controversy of the world. As expected, many people hated the decision... But others were slightly more optimistic, choosing to listen to Morrison's speech, and his plea to give Reyes a chance to redeem himself, and for Overwatch to prove him innocent, and most importantly, to put down the Talon threat.

Leaving Genji to search the higher levels, Gabriel begins a preliminary search to find the way down into the lower levels, if there were any. His mind wandered as he searched, keeping his steps light and careful, allowing one gun to materialize into his hand as a precaution. This was a home, but it hardly looked used. Why would they bring Jinx here? On his feet, Gabe wasn't finding anything out of the ordinary. There had to be a secret entrance somewhere, and it wasn't the kind of thing he was going to find with hands and eyes. Air could be a revealing thing, though, and it had been his tool many times when performing missions like this. If there were rooms below ground, there would need to be an air filtration system that lead down there, and that would be his key.

Reaper allowed his form to evaporate, and he sought out the nearest ceiling vent and there in, he paused. The wraith idled and used his own smoke to tell him the way to go. As minor air currents pushed at him, he followed after them, like plankton in a vast sea trying to find its way. The current took him along and along, many simply seeping into other rooms in the house. It wasn't until finally, after many moments of drifting, when his lungs began to burn and pain began to prick at the end of his nerves, that he sensed a different pull. It was a series of small tubes obviously augmented on from the normal air conditioning system. Following the lead, it eventually turned downward, which was a good sign, and he followed it as long as it went on, until he reached a spot where the tubes merged into a wider column once more. Still, he had to get out, he needed to reform, and quickly. As always, his wraith form never did last that long, and using it extensively could be severely damaging to him. It was a risk he couldn't take, so frantically, he searched through this new, underground system for a vent, and when he did, he filtered through it without any consideration of what he was dropping into, or who, or what might be there. The room he landed in was unlit, but he could hear voices in rooms attached to this one, behind closed doors on a lit corridor. His body reformed, and he knelt there, panting as he breathed into his comm.

“I've penetrated the lower levels. I haven't found an entrance yet, but I can hear voices. Genji, be advised. Sombra, your device might be able to access these halls through the vents.”

“ _Understood. Keep us updated on your findings. What do you see?_ ”

“Nothing yet. It's dark. This room is empty. I'll have to go out when it's safe, or when I can breathe again.” He half-wheezed.

“ _Copy. Be safe._ ”

 

A few minutes was all it took, Gabe's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room he was in, and realized that it was something like a bunkhouse. There were beds here, all side by side, the kind that reminded him of an infirmary, except that there was no medical equipment or monitoring machines. This was nothing more than a sleeping room for workers. It was empty, presumably, because everyone was working. He counted twelve beds, each with their own effects... Reading books, tablets, journals, personal items. All of these would be useful, and it would be too easy to use this evidence to have these people imprisoned, to stop whatever it was that they were doing here. “Sombra, is it possible to find out who owns this place? Legally, I mean.” He whispers into his comm.

“ _Of course, but it will take time. Did you find something?_ ”

“A bedroom. People are living here... Around twelve. There are journals. My question is now we know this place is actually Talon? Do we have the... The legality to take these items?”

“ _The UN has given us legal rights to investigate any location that shows a reasonable probability of being Talon related. We've been looking at this location for weeks. We actually thought they might have brought you here at first. Later decided against it when we realized how remote it would be and how difficult it would be for them to keep you here. Take what you need, if you think it will be helpful to us._ ”

Except... Gabriel wasn't so sure that this _was_ Talon. Namely, because he didn't see any alcohol anywhere. Instead, shades of purple and grey... And then, a telling insignia caught his eye from within a short dresser beside one of the beds.

“ _Vishkar._ ” He says in a whisper. “It's Vishkar. Before I left Talon, there was a man- Sanjay Korpal... He was at the council sometimes... I wasn't sure if they were still involved...”

“ _Sanjay is untouchable, Gabriel. We've been investigating him for months. We have no proof of anything, and after the work the Vishkar did to rebuild Rio, part of the world still largely thinks of them as heros._ ”

“That's going to change. I just found a Vishkar uniform.”

“ _Even then, all that would tell us is that they are involved- it wouldn't incriminate Sanjay._ ”

“Eventually, we'll find a way.” The man makes a point of making sure the camera attached to his person sees the uniform, and the insignia on it. He half wonders what the camera sees when he wraiths. Does it see anything at all, or simply stop transmitting for the time being? That was a question he would have to ask later, because they all knew what it would mean when they forced him to wear it. They must have anticipated what would happen to it.

“ _The top levels are clear. I'm not finding any signs of anyone having actually ever lived here. There's no clothing, no use on any of the furniture... Nothing. It's like they built this house as a cover for what's down below. Reyes, can you find me a way in?_ ” Genji's voice comes in clearly over the comm device despite that he's whispering.

“Not yet.” He says simply, moving through the room, picking up each journal he finds, including the uniform in question. Each one, he turns into a fine black mist to be returned to the ship. It will drain his abilities, limiting them, but crucial in a way that only he could deliver. Finally, it was back into the vents, and he felt the extra weight of what he was carrying almost immediately, even thought they weren't large objects. Moving along, he saw further evidence as he looked in from overhead. Hard light technicians walked to and from rooms, some into labs, others into other various rooms of what looked lie recreation, and then another hallway that lead somewhere else entirely... An elevator, but there hadn't been one on the surface, which meant that this one had to go even further down. Eventually, it was the lab that Gabriel thought would have the best information.

“ _I can now see the lower halls. Gabriel- you're very close to a holding chamber of some kind... And there's something else... Something... Lower. Genji, are you able to get in from up top?_ ” Sombra's voice cracks into Gabe's ear.

“ _No. There doesn't seem to be an access._ ”

“ _That's because there isn't one. At least not directly. It seems they have something like a moon pool. Its under the glacier, our from the rock. That's the only way in. I registered a vessel leaving minutes ago. Gabe, it looks like you're the only one in there for now. You should get out while you can._ ”

As she's saying it, something catches Gabe's eye. It's small, no bigger than a hand held phone, but it's wired up to a chamber that Gabriel can now see clearly. The chamber itself was made of solid metal, with a door that reminded him entirely too much of a prison cell door. The item in question? Some kind of console, only remote... A recording device. If anyone was kept in there, surely it would be saved on that device.

But there were three technicians in this room, all deeply entrenched in their individual studies. What they were doing exactly, he couldn't very well tell... But if he knew anything about the Vishkar, it was that they liked order, and things being _out_ of order disturbed them. In truth, it seemed like any kind of disorganization was a struggle for them... Which, in hindsight, made it hilarious to him that they were working with Talon, knowing what kind of chaos that Talon was going to cause.

How disturbing would it be then for their heating system, through which he'd been traveling, to randomly, suddenly stop working? _Loudly, at that._

 _I'm running out of time._ Reaper's warning was loud and clear in the back of his mind, warning him of the pain that was sure to come if he didn't act hastily. It wouldn't take much. Nothing more than a simple blockage, really... Gabriel moved back the way he had come, swarming along the tight tunnels and making his way into the narrow tubes that had lead him in here in the first place. It's a struggle, but he coalesces just enough of himself to form a hand, and with it, a shotgun. He fires without another question, destroying two of the tubes, and immediately causing the system to disable. Moreover, the sound is loud, and immediately causes a needed diversion. He can hear voices. To them, it just sounded like a loud bang... The sound of machinery malfunctioning, which would preserve the element of stealth that they needed... At least until an actual mechanic opened up the tubing to see what had actually happened. Without another moment of hesitation, he spirals back, twisting away from the sound towards the lab chamber, and as soon as he arrives, it's empty. He doesn't waste a moment, dropping into the room and reforming himself, taking the much needed deep breaths he requires as he carefully detaches the unknown device, hoping that it holds useful intelligence. Then, perhaps before he was fully recovered, he's a ghost again. He cannot afford to wait, and he can't risk being seen.

Minutes later, he snakes back through the torn tubing that he destroyed as he hears Vishkar workers making frantic calls- they're not keen on freezing to death, and he knows it's only a matter of minutes before they realize what he's taken from the lab... And later, what he's stolen from their room as well. By the time he exits, Genji is already back on board the ship, and Gabriel collapses into a small heap, along with all of the evidence.

“Gabriel! Are you alright?” Angela gasps, rushing up to his side and resting a hand on his shoulder. He's on his knees, panting. He's paler than before, but no where near as damaged as he had been in previous missions.

“I'm fine, Doc.” He says, slowly sitting back onto his ankles. Genji has collected the journals, and Sombra has latched her hands onto the little device, obviously fascinated by it. As for the Vishkar uniform, Angela is soon folding it and putting it into a plastic bag, and labeling it. This is done with the other items, too, but ultimately, it's the water that is brought to Gabriel that helps him off the floor.

“You did good,” Sombra's saying. “They're going to be happy with this. I think it's probably more than we expected to find.”

“And no one died!” Genji sounds bizarrely happy about the fact, and his tone makes Gabe laugh somewhat as he sags into a seat, water bottle in hand, hood dropped, mask off. There isn't time to waste, so just as soon as the door is completely shut, the ship is in the air, and headed back towards home. Gabriel drifts into a sleep, exhausted by the mission.

 

When he wakes, it's to the sounds of his comrade's soft voices as they discuss something of importance. The UN expects to see every page of the journals, via scan, before the Overwatch team even starts reading them... To avoid any chance of deceit, naturally. Sombra is already hard at work doing it, which involves flipping through every page of each journal and making digital scans, which are immediately uploaded to them. Those scans are also staying with Overwatch, she says, so that they can properly be analyzed later. The Dolomites are in view soon enough, though it's well after midnight here, and the fog from the morning doesn't look like it ever quite burned off during the daytime. There's still a lot of work to do with the journals by the time they arrive, but Gabriel is otherwise dismissed, since there isn't a whole lot he can do at the moment regarding the information.

When he arrives at his room, there is a man waiting for him.

 

Jack leans against the doorway, eyes downcast at his personal holo, a simple blue button down over his chest, simple black jeans and a belt. He looks up as the sound of Gabe's steps echo down the hallway, still in full tactical gear. Jack smiles faintly.

“Hey. I was wondering how long it would take you. You alright?”

“Well they didn't cart me to the infirmary as soon as I got here,” Gabe replies with a smile in response. “I suppose that's an improvement, isn't it?”

“Seems so. I figured we could go over the mission.” Jack lies, despite that there are cameras everywhere. Gabe knows that Jack is only here to spend time with him, because the mission details had already been uploaded minutes after take off. Gabriel smirks faintly and tips his head.

“Alright.” He says, but his eyes are darker, more tempting than Jack really would have preferred under the circumstances. Far more suited to the bedroom, than to the corridor they were standing in. Gabe steps forward, sliding his hand onto the opening lock, which puts him incidentally close to Jack, a breath's-reach away. The Soldier turns his head to the side, as if inviting the touch of lips to his neck that he would have liked, but Gabriel doesn't give it to him. Instead, there is a small, barely there laugh as the door slides open behind Jack, and they slip into the room.

 

Gabriel finds himself surprised as they slip in, and there's a small box sitting on the bar across the room with a red ribbon. Setting down his mask, he paces across the room to it. “What's this?” he asks, glancing down to it. Jack laughs somewhere behind him.

“You missed Valentine's Day, Gabe. Everyone else got sometime... I didn't want you to feel left out.”

It makes Gabriel laugh gently and he turns around to look at the man while a clawed hand drops onto the box. “You didn't have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

 

Gabe looks back at the box, and metal-tipped fingers latch onto one of the red ribbons and pull until the bow comes free and the small item slips away. He pries off the lid with some ease and finds a number of small truffles inside. Gabriel rarely ever admitted it, but he loved those more than almost any other kind of confection. They were small, decorated, and always multi-flavored. They weren't usually cheap, either. Jack was clearly bringing this back from somewhere in their memories, and it meant more to him than Gabe cared to admit.

“Thank you, Jack.” he said softly, plucking up one of the chocolates between two claws and dropping it into his mouth.

“Careful, you'll stain all that fancy gear of yours.”

“Suppose that means I'll have to take it off then, won't I?” Gabe flirts remorselessly, and he can hear Jack struggle down some kind of thoughtful noise. Their eyes lock, and there is a want in them, between them across the room from one another that is almost tangible. And... There's pain.

 

Pain that they know their limitations. They're already pushing those limitations, and it hurts them both. They crave more.

 

“You going to tell me about the mission?” Jack asks, eventually looking away and moving to sit on the sofa. Gabriel nods, and strides across the room into his bedroom, redressing quickly into something far more comfortable.

“Vishkar,” he started from the other room. “All of them were Vishkar employees. I wasn't even sure they were still involved until now.”

“What do the Vishkar get out of helping Talon?” Jack asks, turning on the holo-screen in front of him.

“I'm not sure they know. I think a good portion of them are paid to obey, and not ask questions. That's a pretty good summary for what they want for the world, too. They think that chaos is an enemy that needs to be tamed. They think that most people are chaotic, and they're not wrong. I don't think they realize entirely what Doomfist intends to unleash.”

“They know he's starting a war,”

“Yes,” Gabe interrupts, “And they want to be the people to rebuild the world... Like they did Rio.”

“There was a lot of controversy in Rio. It's why Lucio joined us, to make sure take-overs like that can't quite happen. Maybe not on the surface, but legally? The place is almost enslaved to the Vishkar for what they did to repair it.”

“Exactly... That much power is dangerous to put in the hands of an organization... The Vishkar see that in Overwatch, too, and for a long time, Overwatch was unregulated, un... Unorganized. It goes against everything they stand for. So, they legitimately think they'll come out on top if Doomfist has his war. They'll show up as the saviors of the newer, stronger human population, without the confusion that having omnics in our society brings to us currently.”

“And what do you think, Gabe?”

“...What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, emerging from his room, dressed now in similar to what Jack had on, except that his shirt was a simple, fitted maroon long sleeve. He comes to sit beside Jack, eyes drifting towards the holo-screen with muted interest.

“You used to hate omnics. I know you still don't trust them. Besides, there are actually a few omnics in Talon. Not a lot. What do they get out of this war?”

“... I've grown over the years, Jack. I've come to realize that the omnics that live with us today aren't like the ones who we fought- they're...” His voice unexpectedly cracks and he looks down. “ _They didn't take Henrique or my mother from me._ ” Quickly, he recovers himself with a deep breath and looks back at Jack somewhat firmly. “They're something else- something new and strange and I think that... Whatever they are, they've done enough fighting on their own, for themselves that... Maybe they deserve to be here. Maybe we need to give them a chance to show their intentions the same way I'm being given a chance to redeem myself... Yes, it's true that War has a means of improving people... Of improving humanity, but... I've seen _enough_ war. There is so much sacrifice involved. We lose so much. Too much. How many people would be hurt the way I was hurt by the war he means to make? How many more _monsters_ would be created by the onslaught? The negatives far outweigh the benefits we'd gain. I know this, but in Akande's eyes, that is the cost of improvement. Weeding out the weak, or something like it. The omnics fighting with Talon are few, as you said. I'm not sure what they hope to get out of it. Wealth, for some of them, I'm certain. Maybe some form of immunity, for the others. Then there's the broken few that actually think, and feel, that their own kind shouldn't exist. That they should have never emerged from humanity. They're all too eager to put an end to their own kind... I suppose you could call them the radicals. I don't think they realize how heartless Akande truly is, and what he'll still do to them after the war is over... Regardless the outcome.”

“... So Vishkar was there. They said you recovered some intel.”

“A uniform, several journals, some kind of recording device. They'll be going over to tonight and tomorrow, I'm sure.”

“You don't look hurt.”

“No, just a little tired. Pushed myself a little more than I should have.”

The pause between them is a knowing one, and Jack slowly moves to stand, putting his hand on Gabe's shoulder.

“Sounds like you need to sleep.”

“I do... But you could stay-”

“ _I can't, Gabe. You know that._ ” Jack sounds sad and frustrated.

Gabe slowly moves to stand, and again, their eyes lock.

“Alright. Goodnight, Jack,” the man rumbles to him, and before he can even finish the words, Jack takes him into a tight hold, fingers pressing against the fabric close to his back. His head dipped into Jack's neck and his lips ghosted a barely felt kiss across his skin. Jack's blue eyes met his seconds after and he took a step back, heading towards the door.

“Goodnight, Gabriel,” Jack replies, and soon slips out the door and is gone.

 

Gabriel struggles to sleep that night, but sometime in the early morning, weariness finally takes him.

 

A debrief at nine the following morning details him on everything they've discovered during the night. The dark circles under Sombra's eyes suggest that she hasn't slept yet, which is mirrored in the disheveled appearance of her hair and clothing.

Besides her, Jack, Winston, Ana, Angela and Genji are all sitting in the room, and there's an open call going on with UN officials that projects an image of them on the far wall at the end of the table.

“So, we understand now that the Vishkar and Talon have something of a mutual agreement. We don't have proof yet, but it's highly likely that Vishkar is using its skills not only to assist in the building of Talon hubs, but they may also be funding it in small amounts here and there. In this case, the house in Greeland was a Vishkar tech lab that was used as a safehold for Jinx when he was first obtained. Jinx was meant to be a replacement for Sombra, but he was more than that as well,” Ana explains, guiding her fingers over a control console to bring up a few scanned journal pages. “They intended to use him to kick off a new crisis, of sorts. Their goal, as we have known now for some time, is to improve humanity by weeding out the weak of our society with unethical means. Additionally, Akande, who is spearheading Talon now that he has escaped, doesn't look favorably on the omnics in the world now, and finds them in direct conflict with his goal of improving _humans._ To him, they are something of a replacement, and therefore, a threat to his goals. The original omnic crisis, as we can see detailed here, he feels catapulted us into a new era of enhancement and innovation. People don't get better until they're forced to, he thinks, and he intends to craft a new omnic war strong enough to test our limitations, but not so powerful, he thinks, that we can't succeed. Jinx undoubtedly would have died during this. Besides him, this plan has insurmountable casualties, and it cannot be allowed to happen. However, as we now know, Jinx is no longer with Talon. Where he is or who he is with, we are not sure, but he is _not_ on Talon's side. He however has not contacted Overwatch- or anyone, as far as we can see. He's gone completely off the grid.”

The images change, showing what looks like video from within the initial chamber where Jinx was kept. “They started with bribery,” Ana continues. “They intended to employ him legitimately, using his home as part of the deal, without disclosing that the laboratory in which he was imprisoned was build directly underneath. They were going to set him up, allegedly, for life, with a home, money- he'd never need to work again so long as he did as they commanded. Naturally, he refused. Then, they resorted to more brutal tactics...”

She trails off as the video explains wordlessly. There is no sound, but everyone can see the omnic as he is pulled in and abruptly shoved down into a chair that reminds many of them of an antique electric chair. Then, as he is bound down and unable to free himself, he is proded more than a few times with something similar to a cattle prod. It makes the omnic's body jerk and twitch violently against the seat he's bound to. His head falls back and his body convulses. Gabriel is stricken by what he sees, and it forces him to look away. It isn't because it's an omnic that bothers him... It's because of how _human_ the omnic seems when subjected to the same tortures a human would be... Through the years, Reaper has tortured countless people... It was so easy to disconnect himself from them then, but now, when he's been on the opposite side, when he's seen the reality of what he's done... It breaks him apart to see it and know that once upon a time, he was the one on the other end of it- that he was the one holding the prod and putting them through that kind of pain. Jack glances over at him, seeing the pain in Gabriel's eyes, and subtly reaches over to smooth his shoulder. It helps him, and the man takes a breath and looks back. The scene has ended with Jinx in the electric equivalent of unconsciousness, where he is abandoned in the dark, and locked up, until the next session, which is much similar. Ana lets the images fade entirely, and glances towards the UN official's image as they observe from the wall.

“All of this should be on your servers already, as it was sent overnight. This concludes the debrief. Any questions? Discussion?”

“Gabriel did this mission on his own, then?” One of the UN asks, and Angela gently shakes her head, speaking for the first time all morning.

“He was on the mission with Agent Shimada, myself, and Sombra... However, at the time we did not realize that the house does not allow access to the lower levels. It was at this point that Sombra's scans revealed an underground entrance via the water... There is a coastal moonpool that the Vishkar are using to access the lab. Because of this, Gabriel was the only one able to fully access the lower chambers. You should have access to his footage as well.”

“We do...” And for a moment there was a long silence as the two groups seemed to consider the information. Finally, they spoke again. “The UN will move to begin an investigation of the Vishkar corporation within the coming week. We will find out as much information as we can on them. With any luck, we will secure the full truth behind the Vishkar involvement and take what necessary action we can to cease any illegal activity. We may call upon Overwatch during this time to assist us. Be prepared to accept our summons. Until then, you may resume your own investigations- regulated, of course, but your cooperation has been noted, and a full record made of everything discovered here. We consider this meeting adjourned.”

 

It felt like a court room, Gabriel realized, not only because they treated it one and spoke like it was one, but because he was in effect being _judged_ by these people based on his actions... He knew it would happen, but he hadn't expected the weight of it to feel like this, nor for it to feel as good when they'd gotten the formal equivalent of _good job._ It pulled a small smile onto his lips, and he looked at Jack, who returned the smile.

 

Finally, they were on the road to something _better._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! As always, I appreciate all your thoughts and praises. Every comment you leave reminds me why I write this story and share it publicly with you. Please don't be afraid to let me know what you think! Also, if you find any Typos, please inform me ^^.
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	47. Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: ...Mild gore? Maybe? Honestly if you've read the story this far you're probably fine.

A year ago, Gabriel wouldn't have balked at the idea of going another night without a touch. He can almost see it now. He can feel it in his bones- the way he felt back then. So cold, detached, careless and alone. Back then, his confusion was the closest friend of his rage, and the cold was just another reminder of what had become of him, even if he didn't quite understand how, or why it had happened. He understood it now as he sat upright in his bed, face in his palms. He had been so numb to the pain back then... Numbed by the drugs he unknowingly consumed... But now, without them, all of it was so real... The pain was almost unbearable. The only thing that could be worse than this, he thought, would be losing Jack entirely. Goosebumps crawled over Gabriel's naked skin and he let his mind drift back to Rosa and her family, and how much of it he had missed during his time not only with SEP, but with Overwatch, and then... Talon. He had no doubt that now that his identity was known, she'd had to deal with quite a few curious reporters, and that was never a burden he had wanted placed on her. In fact, he had never wanted to burden anyone. Moira was suppose to help fix him. To get rid of the nightmares- and for a moment he realized... She had. She had gotten rid of the nightmares he had then... But she had given him new ones. Replaced them with something else- a far more grim reality. She had given Reaper a true name, and a mask that had become his identity. And Reaper had... Well... If Gabriel thought about it hard, Reaper had always been part of him. A darker demonstration of his true self, his emotion and power. Moira had allowed Reaper the ability to be more than just a pessimistic, hateful voice in the back of his mind. They were one, and they always had been. Now?

 

Now they were on the same page.

Whether he cared to admit it or not, there was little to distinguish the difference between himself and Reaper outside of the perception of the world around him at the time. Anyone could be a monster in ignorant circumstances.

 

Anyone, including Widowmaker.

She was so changed, he thought, wiping away the tears from his eyes. He knew that she must have somehow sought some kind of help... Not unlike he had... Except that she trusted Talon, and Talon had its own methods of doing things. Moira undoubtedly had a hand in whatever had happened to her... His friend, whoever she had been and however close they might have gotten, was gone now.

The cost for what he had done to be here was high, but things were better now, right? In this world, Gabriel knew better than almost anyone, you couldn't save everyone. There were always some casualties, and Widowmaker had chosen her side, even if the reasons she had done so were lies.

None of these thoughts soothed the painful aches of need that rolled through his form. He had gotten used to Jack being close to him again, and now, he could remember how it felt to lay in bed with someone, to be there when they woke, or to be woken by them for some midnight affair. He missed all of it terribly, and his body showed it in the form of shudders that rolled through him as he sobbed quietly into his palms. A cold shower would set him right for the day's debriefing.

Something had happened a few hours ago that had woken a few people, but when it was determined that it was no longer an emergency, they had sent Gabriel back to bed... But sleep had not come to him. Instead, a restless longing and reminiscing had come over him. Now, he was only slightly exhausted, and Winston needed him at a meeting in half an hour.

Crawling out of bed, the man slipped into the shower and cleaned himself, ignoring the feel of eyes on him at all times. He knew what they were looking at. His shape, his extra arms, his eyes, and for any interested parties, in all likelihood, his cock. Everyone was human, and it was natural to look, especially when so much of the world considered Reaper a dead, in-human thing. They didn't even know if he _had_ a cock anymore until they saw it themselves. But, he wasn't here to give them any kind of a show, so his shower was short and to the point, and soon he was dressed and out the door.

 

“...Thieves.” Genji says skeptically with a roll of his eyes. “What _thieves_ could just so happen to stumble onto a Talon Artillery Facility, break in, and then still survive? How sure are you that they're still alive, and why?”

“Oh, they're alive alright.” Sombra murmurs from across the table. She sits next to Gabriel, who leans heavily on the table itself. Jaelen is there- she looks just as asleep as he does. “See, Talon can't afford to have every facility completely hidden from the outside world... But they have their tricks. They buy locations that no one would ever rationally go or expect to look for them, and they disguise them to be something else. Then, they very rarely, if ever, send anyone to that location who could be associated with them- so we wouldn't have any reason to suspect the location, let alone go looking. Now that we have, however, it's obvious.”

“Alright,” Jay interrupts, reaching out to swirl her mug of coffee on its rim idly at the end of her fingertips. “So lets ask a more interesting question... Why the hell would two guys just go in? And how? If we don't suspect it, why would they, ey?”

“ _That_ is the real question,” Winston replies, “And also, why Talon hasn't simply killed them. This is a timed mission, I suppose you could say. We have no idea how long before Talon decides to kill them, if they do. We need to find out what they saw, and who they are. Why they're interested- perhaps they could be a good ally to Overwatch.” His eyes shift between the three ground operatives, and then to Sombra. “You four seem the most adept for this mission. Get in, get the hostages, and get out. I will be sending-”

“Sir...” Gabriel murmurs, coming out of his daze somewhat. “You're forgetting something. How did we- how did any of us find out about this in the first place? There must have been some kind of alarm or some kind of-” His words cut off as Sombra wordlessly opens her hand. Magenta light fills up the space before her, in the middle of the table. It soon becomes a holographic video. Some kind of media coverage somewhere in the Philipines. There's a large pale white building with industrial windows. It looks archaic, like it hasn't been touched in years... Barely more than an old warehouse if ever he saw one. It's in a language Gabriel doesn't speak, and Sombra explains.

“They first suspected it as some kind of factory fire... And I might have thought that too, if they hadn't then said that it might be arson. They detected some kind of explosion. I might not have noticed at all, if I hadn't suddenly tracked three Talon ships heading directly there. That tells me that something's wrong. I started doing some digging, and found this.” The screen changes again, until it shows what appears like street footage, dated five months prior. It's hard to make out, but she enhances it, zooming in on one particular carrier truck, which is varying shades of white and black with tinted windows. It zooms in further until the driver can be seen. He looks miraculously ordinary, until he arrives at the facility and exits his truck.

An earpiece is an all-telling feature. It's identical to the ones that Talon ground troops wear, and Gabriel recognizes it in a second. They watch as crate after crate of unidentified goods are carted carefully out of the truck and into the warehouse.

“That was five months ago, and I have tracked three or four other trucks identical to this one unloading there between then and now. All of them have come kind of extremely low-level Talon peon driving. There is an unloading team of seven men who never seem to leave the premises. They're armed, naturally. And, I don't think they ever leave. I haven't seen anyone come out of that place except to unload before heading back in. At night, they lock up and the lights are out, as if it's completely abandoned. That's when these boys hit it.” She explains, and again, the footage changes. It's extremely dark, but Gabriel can make out the figures of two men creeping as if out of the surrounding rainforest into the area. There's hardly even a parking lot- little more than a loading dock and room for the truck to turn around and maneuver, all dirt. There's no streetlamps, and at night the entire place gets lost in the abyss that is the Philippine wilderness.

The two men scuffle around the outside of the building until one of them does something very telling... Something that causes Gabriel and Genji to lock eyes immediately. The man scales straight up the wall, using a technique that _very_ few men on earth knew, and one of them was sitting in this room. He reaches the window and slips inside. Seconds later, the second follows.

“Is that your brother, Genji?” Gabriel asks at once.

“No! It can't be. I don't know why Hanzo would be interested with this.”

“That one moved like one of you-”

“Not one of me, Reyes. Not anymore. We have no choice but to figure out who they are.”

“You think that these are Shimada Clan members?” Winston asks.

“It might explain why they're not dead yet,” Sombra adds.

 

“Very well,” the Commander says finally, pushing up his glasses. “Shimada, Reyes, Carter. You three will go in to rescue the hostages that Talon is keeping. Bring them back here for questioning. Make sure they're blindfolded and untraceable. I don't want anyone finding out where we are, especially if they're Clan members. Sombra, you will be going with them. I'll send Angela as well, once I have a chance to debrief her. Your job here is to work as a team to get them out. As few casualties as possible, as per the usual. You will be leaving in two hours. Do what you can to make yourselves ready.”

“Sir?” Genji asks as everyone stands, dismissed.

“Yes?” Winston asks, glancing his way.

“Will Agent McCree be coming with us?”

The pause between them is a telling one. Everyone knows what is being suggested here. Jesse was obviously attached to Hanzo, and if the man was there, or if he died, or something went bad, Jesse could be a huge compromise to the mission... And yet, he was the only person in Overwatch who was likely to get Hanzo to talk, too... That was, if Hanzo would speak to him at all. Or anyone, for that matter.

“... Ah. No. Not this time. I don't want there to be any unnecessary distractions. For the time being, McCree is not part of this assignment. That means you will not discuss the particulars with him until I decide he is relevant to the mission. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

 

Somewhere on the flight there, Gabriel tunes out the world around him. On the table in front of them, a holographic map of where they're going charts their route. Italy to the Philippines was not a short ride- in fact, he was starting to feel like just maybe Overwatch had chosen the single most inconvenient place for a base in the entire world, because it took ten hours to get anywhere, and everything always happened somewhere else. The thought made him smirk faintly, and he let his mind drift back.

Back before the Fall. Back before Moira... When it was just he and Jack, out there in that wilderness that had become the Overwatch Base. They were so much younger then, and so much happier. Things were so... Calm by comparison to everything that had come before it, and everything that had followed. For a little while, they'd been perfectly happy, together and themselves. For once, the pain was gone, and all of the worry. Jack had wanted to propose to him, but by some stroke of terrible luck, it had never happened. Perhaps Moira had prevented it from happening. Perhaps Gabriel, being too afraid to ask for real help, had prevented it from happening. Gabriel wondered if he and Jack would ever feel that way again.

 

And yet, in this small moment of pondering, Gabriel realized something very crucial.

 

At some point in the last few months, for once, he had stopped- he had _finally_ stopped looking for answers... And in some respect, he had stopped looking for revenge, too. He still meant to have it, but something in him had changed. His goal, his entire motive had shifted.

From the moment he realized that he had fallen back in love with Jack, Jack had become his _only_ mission... To find a peace like they once had, back in that forest, a memory he still couldn't quite grasp entirely. Just them, alone... Together. The Soldier had described it so idyllic and incredible... Had so many years gone by that it was impossible now? Was there a chance that they could have that once more?

He realized that this had become his goal since the moment Jack told him about it. About the way they had once been for such a short while. To find that one little thing, that one connection that meant more than anything else in the world ever possibly could. His pain paled beneath the limelight of this sovereign, omnipresent touch... The feeling that even their death couldn't _quite_ tear them apart... And... Just maybe... _Just_ maybe, that was why all of this had happened.

 

Gabriel had never been a man who believed in fate, or most forms of superstition. In fact, he tended to remain pessimistic about anything that had no solid proof.

 

And yet, wasn't it completely, logically, and factually true, that if Gabriel had _not_ turned his back on Jack, and hired Moira, that he would in all likelihood have died somewhere along the way, and that none of this would have happened? Wasn't it true that he wouldn't _be_ here right now if none of it had happened before?

One could argue that they'd have grown old together and been happy, but there was something in his gut that told him that wasn't true. Something else would have happened. Something just as bad as this, if not worse. Perhaps _this_ had to happen for them to earn that connection. Perhaps _this_ was the cost laid upon them, and the test to challenge their bond. If they could make it through this, then surely, there was nothing in the world that could stop them.

 

And certainly not the UN.

 

This small idea brought a smile to Gabriel's lips- knowing that sooner or later, this would work its way through. That they'd find a way, and everything would be fine, more or less. Eventually. He would make sure of it. He would find a way to give he and Jack the time they deserved. Reaper was paying the price for his crimes even now, and likely would be for a long time... But when it was over? When it was over, he swore, he would take Jack away from all of this, to the peace he deserved.

 

This pain was temporary, and the only way to get through it was to finish these missions- as many as he needed to, to prove who he was and his genuine intentions to the world. Clearing his name wouldn't be easy, but it was his bed to lay in, so to speak... So here he was, daydreaming about Jack on his way to a mission that hardly seemed safe.

 

An update in the last hour showed that a Talon ship had arrived at the warehouse location, or at least nearby, as there wasn't likely a landing place in the thick of the wilderness as it was. Why it was there? They could only make educated guesses. They had to get there, and fast, before Talon decided to cut the interrogations short. Undoubtedly, whatever the 'thieves' were going through, it wasn't exactly luxurious. The City of Iligan- large and modern compared to the location they were heading to, which was nearly a full five miles on the outskirts of town, so remote that no one dared go there... Unless of course they were Shimada Clan members trying to sneak into a Talon facility for who knew what reasons. He and Genji had hashed out that that was who they _must_ be within the first twenty minutes of the trip, and now, the younger Shimada was sleeping- actually sleeping, in a seat not far from where Gabe was close to doing the same. Jaelen's head was lounged against his shoulder, her breathing quiet and soft. The gentle rise and fall of her chest suggested that if he moved, she might not even notice. So, slowly, he sagged in his seat, propping up his feet and allowing her to delicately slide down so as to use his abdomen as a pillow. Eventually, he slept too, catching up on what he lost the night before.

When they finally arrive, it's nearing sunset, and they know that they don't have any time to waste waiting for darkness. The ship has been stealthed for the last five minutes, long before they ever even got close, and now, all the scanners can see are trees, and _nowhere_ to land. The one bald hill a mile away is undoubtedly preoccupied by the ship that they saw fly in earlier, so they dare not try to land there.

“ _Dropping in,_ ” Reaper rumbles as he stands near the cargo door. Jaelen is nearby- she looks beyond petrified as she stares at the door like the door itself is going to throw her out. “ _What's the matter?_ ” He's staring at her, and she looks like at any moment she might cling onto him, despite how un-comforting his tactical gear makes him look.

Sombra is somewhere behind them, laughing her ass off. Genji seems far too focused on the mission to notice what's going on between the older and newer recruits.

“H-Hights.” Jaelen's stammered words shudder out of her lips as she stands there. Reaper turns to her, a smirk that she can't see under his mask, and he crouches over so that he's face to face with her.

“ _Shh. Birds can fly, little Cardinal._ ” The words surprise her, but she looks up into his mask- the owl mask, only to find something being held out to her at the end of his clawed hand. It's another mask. Similar to his, but significantly smaller. Unlike his, hers does not cover her entire face. A sharp, pointed black triangle comes down from the bridge of her nose, covering it but leaving her lips and chin exposed. Either cheek is covered by a sharply downward angled flat panel that reminds Gabriel of the helm of a roman gladiator. Her hazel eyes are fastened now upon the mask, and she looks up at him. A smile blossoms onto her face as she understands the significance of the gift. Cardinals had been prevalent in Canada where she had lived and grown up- from afar, she had always admired them. Moreover, it suited her perfectly- the red, the idea of it, the look, and the need to become something beyond herself for something like this... Not unlike Reaper had done when he adopted the image of the Owl- a symbol of death in some cultures. Suddenly, she wasn't afraid anymore. The nerves in her frame fizzled out, and she reached up, fastening on the mask and pulling up her hood, just as red, completing the image. She could be Jaelen Carter later. Today? She had become the Cardinal.

“Uh, you can thank me for those, Chica,” Sombra suddenly pipes in, interrupting their warm moment. “The lenses are inlaid with infrared and heat filters. You can also see in the dark. The mask itself will also monitor your vitals, and can take small clips of anything you see when you look at it, at the push of a button. It should help you with scouting,”

“ _Like a canary down the mineshaft,_ ” Jaelen murmurs. “You did this?”

“I did this.” Sombra replies, but Reaper is quick to pipe in.

“It was _my_ idea. You needed something to protect your identity when we're out like this... Besides. The red suits you.” Turning away from her, Reaper refocuses himself upon the task at hand. Cardinal plays with the filters on her mask, testing each one, including the recording feature, glancing around the cabin, and then at Reaper himself as he steps up to the droplines situated at the door of the ship. Genji is already fastening onto one of them, to avoid any risk of falling. Soon, Reaper is doing the same, latching the grips around his hands and a loop around the midsection, fitting one of his boots into the loop at the end of the cable. She follows suit, doing the same with her own, but ultimately looking towards the two other seasoned, veteran operatives to make sure she's done it right. Like a conductor checking the fastenings of a rollercoaster, Gabriel tests her grips before he nods sharply.

“We're ready. Lets go.”

 

And like that, the airlock to the ship gives a loud crack, and releases. The door opens, and like before, Sombra offers them a temporary invisibility as the three finally leave the ship, the cables lowering them rapidly into the forest. As the wind whips at them, Reaper glances over at Jay, who suddenly remembers her fear of heights.

“Don't look down,” He taunts with a small laugh, and the woman murmurs some kind of sharp curse at him that he can't quite make out. Yet, she _doesn't_ look down, either. Soon, the light of the sunset is swallowed up by the trees as they drop into them, and seconds later, they've arrived on the leaf-litter floor, crouched as they unfasten themselves from their leads and remain still there in the darkness. Around them, their ears are assaulted by the nightlife of the rainforest. There's something about the bird calls backed by the distant hoot of some unknown primate and predator. Wordlessly, they know they need to move. Sombra buzzes into their ears as the droplines recoil back into the sky, and the ship drifts away, the shimmer of its invisibility going with it, as it leaves the three operatives in its wake.

“ _Head west. You'll arrive behind the building. Find a way in. Do what you do best._ ”

As their own stealth fades, the three move off in the direction they're suppose to, creeping along the forest floor in as much quiet as the heavy leaf-strewn floor will let them. Deftly, they slip over fallen trees, through bushes, avoiding anything that looks too much like it might bite back along their way, and though Gabriel is comfortable in the dark, Jaelen relies on the new night vision filter on her mask to keep herself reassured. Genji hardly looks like the outside world affects him at all, as if nothing can distract him from his goal... Perhaps he's just curious to see if one of the two men now detailed by Talon is his brother or not.

When they finally arrive, all three breathe a silent relief to be back in some modicum of civilization... Even if it was just a Talon weapon's warehouse in the middle of nowhere in the jungle filled with hostile operatives.

“ _I'll go left._ ” Genji says to them, and both nod.

“ _Cardinal will go right with me. We'll look for a way in. Stay in touch._ ” Reaper's rumbled voice has become something of a comfort for Jaelen, where it might have scared millions before... And probably still did, now that she thought about it. Gabriel's mind is on the mission, focused. This was just another job to him, and they had no time to waste.

“ _Receiving initial scans from the ship,_ ” Sombra says into their ears. “ _Can't see inside yet, but there are a set of windows on the second floor, high up. They might be reinforced... Bulletproof, maybe. No vents... It's almost like they were expecting you, Gabe._ ” Inwardly, Gabriel cringes- he hates when she uses his real name during jobs, but he says nothing. Eyes dart towards the second floor, where he sees the windows that Sombra had spoken of. From what he can see, the windows look boarded up, almost barricaded... As with many Talon locations, the place looked deceptively abandoned... And yet he knew beyond any doubt that it was anything but once they got inside. The building itself was largely made out of wood and sheet metal. Without any warning, Gabriel begins to scale upwards using his claws and the claws along one of his arms to drag himself upwards, using raw strength and barely-there ledges to raise himself. When he glances down, Jay is staring up at him, her expression, even when covered by her mask, is obvious. _How the hell am I suppose to do that?_ He smirks, rumbling down at her to the unspoken question.

“ _I'll find you a way in._ ” he whispers, then continuing upwards towards the window. It's darkly tinted and vaguely tarnished on its metal edges. Holding himself there, he tests the window itself... Locked, obviously, which means he'd have to break in, one way or another. But could he do it quietly? That was going to be key. Eventually, his claws find a small notch in the window frame itself, and wedges beneath it.

“ _Careful, Reaper, They might have sensors. You should be ready for a fight if you get in._ ” Sombra is his eye in the sky, and he knows that she can see him.

“ _Sombra. Can you distract them with the nearby ship?_ ” Genji's voice cuts into their ears, quietly, he's obviously scouting.

“ _What did you have in mind, ninja?_ ” She asks in response.

“ _At the front of the building, I spot three guards near a loading door. There are undoubtedly a few more inside. These men are waiting for something... It might be our way in if we can draw them out. You could do that remotely._ ”

“... _I'll see what I can manage._ ”

 

Little could have prepared the three operatives for what happened next. Alarms louder than Gabriel could have expected suddenly go off from loudspeakers that Gabe can't even pinpoint.

“ _SHIT! MOVE, MOVE! If you're going to do anything boys, you better do it now!_ ” Something had obviously gone wrong, and their cover was blown. There was sound not unlike the quavering tremble of a broken violin as something reveals itself in the sky over the building...

The Talon ship itself, staring right down at them.

“ _Awh Fuck!_ ” Jaelen curses somewhere beneath him. Over the sudden sound of the loud engines, he hears something he's only heard a few times before.

“ _ **Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!**_ ” Genji's been spotted, and he's obviously under attack. Reaper knows that the dragon can handle himself for at least a little while, so he has to move now. Roughly, he swings his right arm back, only to swing it forward, latching onto the window frame itself and jerking backwards with as much strength as he can manage, forcing a roar of effort to rip out of him until finally the metal pulls away and shreds beneath his power, flying away and down below, luckily not near the Cardinal herself. The window fractures, and he shoves it away until there is a gab big enough for him to get through. Inside, he lands with a heavy thud, finding himself face to face with two guardsmen in full, black tinted talon garb. Guns materialize in Reaper's hands, and soon, he is firing back at them, taking cover where he can behind a crate of boxes. He can't help but notice that when he does, they _stop_ firing, which says a _lot_ about what's being kept inside.

“ _Watch your fire, there are explosives!_ ” Reaper howls into his comm device. From outside the window, he can hear the tell-tale cry of Cardinal's pistols, firing away at whoever has set themselves upon her. The man wraiths, rushing his targets as he realizes that it's the safest way, but there is a painful sting that catches his leg as he materializes before them, and he grunts in pain, unable to acknowledge the injury now. He catches the offender in something like a choke-hold, spinning him around and using him as a living meatshield against his partner, who incidentally loads his entire torso with four hot rounds, killing the man instantly. Shoving the body forward and into the shocked man and seconds later, ending his regrets with a single fire from one of those brutal shotguns. Outside, there's no more firing, but it's quiet as well, which concerns him.

“Cardinal, report!” He snaps into his comm.

“ _I'm alive, boss, calm down, ey?_ ” But he can hear pain in her voice. She was alive, but injured. Overhead, he can hear the Talon ship moving- and for good reason. The Overwatch ship that brought them here has now revealed itself, and is drawing the considerably larger ship off of them, and after itself. Both ships were armed, but doing so here would mean suicide for everyone. But, the move is one that reveals a considerable amount to Gabriel- he knows that if Talon fired here, undoubtedly, everyone inside would die, including the Overwatch operatives, and while Talon didn't really _care_ about its own casualties, it obviously had something here that it didn't want destroyed, so it had assumed the chase. Only when it had left their immediate area did he start to hear the scream of live rockets taking to the air, and Overwatch fired back with considerably smaller light pulses, lighting the sky up in flashes of orange and blue.

In a hurry, Gabriel reaches the first thing he could find and throws it through the window- a chain, and scales up it to glance out towards Jaylen. She's already begun the climb, but in the light given off by the firefight, he can see blood seeping from one of her arms, a steady flow, but nothing incredibly life threatening. Within her flesh, where there ought to have been, he can see the gleam of punctured, shining metal- the prosthetics she had said she had, but that he had never seen proof of until now, barely visible as her blood stains the sleeve of the red hoodie with a familiar dampness he had seen before.

“ _I'm fine_.” She snarls up at his unspoken look behind his mask, as if she could anticipate his expression. Recoiling back through the window, he drops, and waits for her to land behind him before he heads further in. His shotguns are in hand now, as are her pistols, and he rushes forward.

“ _We're taking fire- get the hostages and get out!_ ” Sombra hisses, “ _We'll need to send a separate evac- we don't have the firepower to battle this thing. Take them with you and hide until we can reach you! Report!_ ”

“ _Alive, but injured. Cardinal is with me. Same status,”_ Reaper rumbles.

“ _Evading pursuers,_ ” Genji pants. “ _There are six of them. I am uninjured but I can't fight them all alone. I will need to hide. Sombra, can you stealth me?_ ”

“ _Negative, we're getting battered around up here!_ ” Over the comm device, everyone can hear the hail of fire that rains down on the Overwatch ship.

Reaper knows that he's unable to help the other two, and that their mission still needs to be completed while they have the chance. Without warning, he barrels into the room beyond this one, which was little more than a stock room, landing himself on a metal walkway of a balcony that circles the center of the entire upper floor. The room below acts much like a common room with doors all leading to separate chambers like the one he came out of, and he has no choice but to assume that every room is filled with some kind of explosive, or a weapon. He sees three guards all aimed up at him from the bottom floor near what was the inside of the loading bay that Genji had mentioned. Additionally, on either side of them at the corners of the walkway there is a man that guards the stairs downward. To the right, there are two more men near a hallway, shouting commands at the others. At once, everyone open fires on the two operatives on the balcony, and they react instinctually. Reaper becomes a cloud of smoke, and Cardinal drops to the floor of the balcony, causing the two men on either side of them to shoot each other. The three down below follow the renowned wraith, and open fire into the black mass that he has become. Reaper knows that if he doesn't do something fast, they will quickly set themselves upon the far more physical, far less experienced operative with him. It wasn't a question to him at that point- he knew how quickest to end them, and that death came in the form of the signature, devastating move.

“ **DIE!** ” The roar was enough to strike fear into everyone there, including Jaelen up on the metal walkway, still flat on her belly. She watched at the wraith became a tornado of black hellfire, and the men at the loading bay flew apart, blood spraying out of them with the force of the shots that tore through them, painting the wall there in a horrific shade of red, bringing some color to the otherwise boring building in shades of grey and brown and rust.

The men at a hallway are gone now, likely vanished inside as soon as they saw the black storm taking shape. Jaelen slowly rises to a stand as Gabe's wicked cloud begins to coalesce back into human form. He'd fed, whether he had intended to or not, and now his eyes glowed with the faint red that emerged with his bloodlust, and were obvious in his mask as he looked towards the hallway. He begins to stalk that way as Cardinal now flees down the steps towards him, catching up despite the pain in her arm from the previous injury outside the compound.

“You alright, ey?” She asks in a half whisper, and he looks at her wordlessly, saying nothing and continuing to walk forward. That was probably as close to a yes as she was going to get, she realizes, looking down as she notices that the limp he had before is gone now- along with the injury that had caused it. When they reach the door, it's locked, of course, but he raises a weapon and shoots into the doorknob. It takes four tries, but finally, the door rocks open, and at the end of a hallway, three men stand at the ready with their weapons, guarding a prison door that stands locked.

“NOT A MOVE!” One of them shouts. “One move and we blow this whole place to pieces, and you along with it!”

Reaper wanted to laugh, and very nearly did so as his head turned, tilting somewhat as he looked at them. His guns lowered, which caught them off guard.

“ _Duck,_ ” he said suddenly to Jaelen beside him, who still had her weapons raised, and as she had before, the girl was suddenly in motion, flattening herself against the ground as Reaper sunk into the ground and within half a second, arrived right behind the men, who had already begun to shoot. He tore into them with his claws, throwing them aside into the walls until he heard bones break and watched the guns fall, and when they stopped moving, he turned to the locked prison door. One of the three men on the floor has a set of locks that fit into the elaborate mechanics of the lock, and after managing to open it, his eyes finally settle on the prisoners on the other side.

 

Both are unconscious sat in chairs that bind them down.

Battered and bruised, both men, black pants and no shirts, no weapons, signs of a scuffle obvious. Neither of them are Hanzo Shimada... But their Clan tattoos are obvious in the form of dark markings like that of a dragon etched traditionally into their deltoids, significantly smaller and less ornate than those of the actual Shimada family.

“ _Hostages in sight. We are extracting them now. Report._ ” Reaper's voice ends the silence that had taken place after the firefight minutes prior.

“ _We have eluded the Talon ship, but they will be coming back for you. This ship isn't in shape for an evac. Not anymore. Take cover in the forest. Turn your beacons on. I will be coming in with the pilots. Genji?_ ” Sombra sounds winded, but alive.

“ _Two of the men following me are dead. The others have given up the chase. I am hiding, for now._ ”

“ _Copy. Lets meet up on the north side of the building._ ” No one can hear the ship anymore, and seconds later, a catastrophic boom explains why. Out far over the ocean, the ship self destructs- no one in it, naturally, everyone aboard had jumped out minutes prior, and likely now trudged through the rainforest towards the northern location.

“Get them out.” Gabriel says to Jaelen as he begins to unbind the first hostage. As he does so, he notices something on either of their backs near their shoulderblades- a bandage, which suggests some kind of injury... But as close as they are to being in the same location, he doubts that they're from a fight. Without explanation, he reaches down and peels away the surgical tape that holds the bandages on, revealing a row of fresh stitching. “ _Trackers..._ ” He deduces audibly. “We'll have to remove them. Quickly. We don't have time.”

His claws clip the stitching with ease, and beside him, Jaelen does similar with a small pocket knife. The wounds come open and begin to bleed, but the tracker isn't terribly far beneath the skin, allowing Gabriel to remove it without trouble, then crushing it in his grasp. The same is done with Jaelen's the second she has it- a small silver, chrome device that looks a lot like a jelly bean. With that done, the two drop one hostage over their shoulders each, then hasten their way away from the building, simply fleeing through the now-open loading bay doors at the front of the building. Obviously, Genji's attackers had gone through it to confront him, and now, left them an easy way out. Not keen on wasting time trying to evade the ship that will obviously come back to the facility, the two make their way into the forest north of the building, running as fast as they're able, and by the time they stop, both are panting and sweating, and drop their prizes onto the ground, collapsing in a heap nearby. They're almost a full mile away from the station, and it's a full twenty minutes before the sound of movement assaults their ears.

It's Genji, who assesses the two hostages without a word as he comes to sit beside them.

“Now what?” Jaelen whispers in the dark as she looks at them.

“Now we wait for evac.” Genji says, his emotion impossible to read as he looks at the two Shimada Clan members, who are still unconscious. Obviously they had been drugged seconds into the attack on the base to keep them from somehow escaping. “We will have to bind them somehow,” he says to Gabriel. “We can't be certain how long they'll be out, and how long it will take for us to get extracted.”

“How long do you think it will take Sombra, Angela and the pilots to reach us?”

“Another hour, maybe- they were a couple miles out when they abandoned the ship. I saw it from where I was hidden,” the cyborg replies, and Gabriel nods, reaching down and suddenly beginning to undo one of the two belts he wears, handing it over to Genji. The ninja gets to work using it to fasten the two Clan members together. It isn't a lot, but it's enough to keep them from doing anything with their hands, especially latched together in such a way.

“Talon will be searching the surrounding forest. Are we far enough away?”

“Far enough, without trackers, so long as we stay quiet,” Reaper rattles in response to the other man, and Genji takes the hint. The wraith's attention drifts to the Cardinal who he's taken under his wing, so to speak.

“ _Your arm. Is it bad?_ ” He asked in a whisper.

“ _Looks worse than it is, I guess. Hurts like a bitch... But it's clotting up. I'll last until Angela gets here._ ” And then there were no more words. Jaelen silently brings herself closer to him, until she nudges up against his side, and the man looks over at her. Slowly, his arm shifts and opens to her, slipping around her shoulders as she sags into him, exhausted and in pain- and terrified of the dark that the other two seem to ignore. Once more, the cacophony of noise that has become the night forest overtakes them, cloaking them within it.

 

An hour and a half later, the rest of their party finally arrives. Angela's staff acts as a tiny torch in the darkness as she arrives, just to give them a way to make it through without tripping. Seconds afterwards, the light is gone, and she begins to address the various wounds they have- Sombra already cradles what looks like a splinted arm, and Jaelen as a bullet removed from her arm, then stitched up, though the seasoned medic makes it clear that they will need to do scans on her prosthetics later to check them for any serious damage. Only then does Angela switch to address the two hostages, who still haven't woken up.

“I can't be sure of what's in their system,” she explains quietly. “But my guess is that Talon did not intend for us to actually succeed- or perhaps they did not expect for us to try taking them once we realized that they were clan. I can't be sure. The Clan has never been sympathetic towards our cause, so why then should we want to save them?”

“Talon's logic is and has always been skewed. I think we should check them regardless.” Reaper replies darkly. “They could still be bugged in some way that I didn't discover. We removed two trackers that had been put into them... But Talon is creative, and they have Moira. I wouldn't want to get too close to them- she may have injected them with something... Volatile. Something contagious.”

“ _Biological warfare, Gabriel?_ No one has used anything like that in decades-”

“Which is _exactly why_ she would pick it. Believe me, Angela... The witch is just as cunning as she is twisted. If she thinks there's a way she can take advantage of our... Generosity-” he was speaking to the idea of them leaving the hostages alive, “ _She will_.”

Angela slowly nods, and resumes healing up the new captives, though she operates with the same amount of caution with them as she might with someone who was sick, even going so far as to make sure they're not sitting too close to any of them.

 

“I went in to do a hack. It seems like they had some kind of counter measure in place. They were expecting us to show up here. It was rigged to blow the alarm the second I prodded in. I don't know how they managed it, but-”

“Did anyone _else_ notice that there were no signs of a fire?” Jaelen suddenly interrupts, and it causes everyone to stop, minds stammering for a moment in realization. The only reason they had been drawn here was because of an explosion of some kind... But the building itself had looked more or less fine. The media casts had suspected arson... And that story had disappeared almost overnight.

“Do you suppose it could have been faked?” Genji asked, staring bizarrely at the two hostages. Everyone's quiet as they consider the possibilities. If it was faked, and this was a set up, why didn't Talon simply blow the compound? And how, or why, were there Shimada Clan members? “They're real.” Genji says. “Only people in the clan are taught to wall-climb like we do. These tattoos are real.”

“The fire could have been cleaned up. Talon is working with the Vishkar. They can take care of these kinds of things overnight. A quick cover up,” Gabriel responds quietly.

“The building looked old. Didn't exactly look like it was touched up,” Cardinal adds.

“They're not limited to high-tech buildings, Carter. The light technology used by the Vishkar can make anything,” Sombra explains.

“And there was an elaborate lock on that door. Secure windows... These two men came in through a window- which we didn't see any evidence of. Wouldn't take much to make the media forget about it.”

“They _won't_ be forgetting about this.” Angela pipes in. “If they haven't found us in a few hours, the Talon ship will be forced to get what's theirs and get out, before investigators come... What was in the building, specifically?”

“Specifically? I can't be sure. I saw hazard signs on crates... They refused to fire at them. That's all I know. How far out is evac?”

“A couple more hours. We have no choice but to wait.”

 

And so they fell quiet, allowing the jungle to swallow them up. Everyone let their minds wander upon the possibilities of what was going on here... And despite the injuries, they _had_ gotten the hostages out alive.

 

But why hadn't the hostages woken up yet, even now, hours after being rescued?

 

What was it that they were hiding that Talon didn't want them to know?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope you're enjoying these more action-filled chapters. As always please let me know what you think!
> 
> Like the story? Please help me keep it going by donating a coffee!   
> ko-fi.com/trishields


	48. Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: ... Very mild gore description.

At night, the jungle fails even then to reminisce over the winter that everyone in their little crew was used to feeling. Gabriel feels hot and sticky beneath the layers of his tactical and the added body heat of Jaelen curled up nearby to him for some shuteye. Genji has removed the lower part of his helmet for breathing space, which seems even hotter by the metal he wears. In the darkness, his eyes gleam silently with the occasional touch of moonlight. Angela dozes quietly nearby, and Sombra keeps her eyes on the still-silent men bound up nearby. The Talon ship had passed overhead multiple times, failing to find them with Sombra's cloaking device occasionally flickering on when needed, and eventually returning to the warehouse to assess the damage. What they were doing there, no one was in any position to go and see. Ultimately, their evac ship couldn't even get close enough to them to land. Cloaked as it was, everyone was at least a little startled when droplines suddenly appeared as if in thin air. The ship itself was almost completely soundless, uttering little more than a very faint buzz to give itself away. Even the overhead comm report that they had arrived did little to prepare them for its exact timing. The wraith nudges Jaelen awake, and she blearily looks towards the center of them there the ropes hang. She goes up first with Sombra and Angela, and Gabriel and Genji and the two pilots prepare the unconscious prisoners for their ride up. It involves a lot of strapping down, and two stretcher-like structures, but ultimately, everyone gets up the lift with another extension or two. Inside the ship, Gabriel falls asleep almost immediately, exhausted and vaguely hungry. He doesn't wake again until the door to the ship opens, forcing a gust of now-familiar cold, filtered cave air in at them. He makes his way to his bedroom, keen on falling fast asleep, when once again, he finds a familiar face at the door.

“Hey,” Jack says, looking up from his hand-held. Gabe smiles upon seeing him despite how drowsy he is... He's slept for hours now, but something about falling asleep in an airship cabin left a lot to be desired. He had aches that only a hot bath would soothe.

“Hey you,” Gabe replies almost warmly, and Jack smiles. They greet with a short, but affectionate hug, foreheads touching for a moment before they force themselves to break away.

“You alright?”

“Unscathed. Little hungry though. Had to exert myself a little bit today. It was...”

“Rough?” Jack asks, smirking some as Gabriel lets them into the room.

“Not as bad as it could have been... Waiting in the jungle was the worst part. You wouldn't even know it was winter. I'm hot... Sticky... Disgusting.”

“The cafe was making something home made- some kind of celebration for the Asian New Year. A lot of our operatives went and cooked things from their home towns, or... Uh, Cultures, I guess. Katie made some things. I brought you a small feast... Figured you'd enjoy it even if it-”

“Jack... I _can_ eat,” Gabriel laughed. “And I _like_ eating. It just doesn't do the same thing...”

“I know. You always tried to cram as much food into your face as you could manage. Anyway, it might be a little cold now-”

“It's fine... Thank you. Stay with me a while?” Gabe asks, and Jack smiles, shutting the door behind him as Gabe wanders in towards the alleged feast on his table in the back of the room. Jack wasn't kidding- there were at least three plates here, all of them covered, and something that smelled sweet and fruity off to the side- some kind of dessert. He smiles significantly more, and grabs the first plate before sitting at the couch. He doesn't even bother to change, or shower first- he suddenly remembers his very human appetite and begins to chow down. Jack laughs and puts on whatever show Gabe has shoved into the slot on his holo.

“Slow down there, Soldier. You're eating like you were injected.”

The words make him snort somewhat.

“There's a few comforting things in the world, Jack. A lot of them that I lost. Food was one of them, for a long time. I'm not going to let it get away from me now.”

The two laugh together, and he tells Jack how the mission went, all the while well aware of how there are eyes glued onto him from various corners of the room, and he starts to get used to it. He starts to ignore the fact that they're there, and he's allowed some peace of mind, even if only a little. Afterwards, Jack watches the old shows while Gabriel gets himself cleans up, and soaks in the tub in a way that soothes his muscles in the way the food couldn't. Even then, it would be morning before he could properly feed, and even _that_ wouldn't make him feel totally, completely better.

No... Only Jack could do that, and the Soldier stayed with him as long as he could, right up to the moment that Gabriel leaned in the doorway to his bedroom, only half dressed. Blue eyes roamed the man's figure now far more hungry himself that he was before. Gabriel could see the man's stare wander, and he smirked faintly, spotting the small gulp that Jack gave in response.

They both knew what each other wanted, and Gabe was tempted to ask Jack for more... But he knew he couldn't. Yet, Jack stalked forward all the same, something aggressive in his stride. Gabe knew it without needing to be told. There was a strength in his moves that was almost frightening, and yet... Gabe _wanted_ him. Jack was suddenly right in front of him, leaning in so that Gabe was forced to press back against the doorframe as the other closed the distance dominantly between them, his lips close to Gabe's neck and ear.

“ _Be careful what you wish for, Soldier. You know I don't play by the rules anymore.”_

The whisper is powerful enough to send a shudder rolling down Gabriel's spine, and his mouth to remain partially open as he exhales a breath against the other's neck. _Fuck. Maybe he shouldn't have taunted Jack in the first place. This was all he was going to think about now!_

Jack departed minutes later, returning the tease as much as Gabe had given it, leaving the wraith almost as hot as he'd been in the Jungle, if for far, far different reasons. That night, Gabriel struggles not to satisfy his own very _human_ urges in the non-privacy of his bedroom, and his _need_ intensifies. The idea of Jack simply abandoning the rules to take him right there, right on the couch, or on his own bed consumes his mind. And yet, now, with this obvious problem, he rolls over in his bed and refuses to indulge in front of the onlooking cameras.

 

The following morning, the feeling persists, as he wakes up frustrated and aroused to the beeping alarm of his holo-screen, which alerts him to a debrief. He sighs and showers, gets dressed, and heads out. A strong cup of coffee, this time devoid of all the milk and extra flavors he might have otherwise mucked it up with left out as he made his way towards the command center. He doesn't see Jack anywhere along the way, and in fact, Jack isn't even there when he arrives.

 

“They haven't woken up yet, no. Preliminary tests suggest that they've been put under, and that possibly, they were put under long before we arrived.” Angela's voice is a welcome sound, and he knows that as soon as they're done here, she'll have a meal for him waiting in the back office of the medbay. “A curious discovery,” She says, clicking on a remote that brings up a slide from the lab. It's a close up of something that Gabriel quite understand, but he can see the tell-tale structures of cells, and something around them that he can't quite identify. “This is a slide from Gabriel's blood a week after he arrived at the Fiji hub. This here-” She motions the vaguely bluish, grey particles latched onto the outsides of the cells, “Is the chemical compound that was in his system, a remnant from Talon.” She clicks the button again, and another slide appears. It looks remarkably similar, except that there are even _more_ of the particles- the chemical she had mentioned. “This is Lacroix, from when we first attained that sample... And this,” She says, switching to a final slide, which shows two samples, “This is from our two sleeping Shimada Clan members.” The cells are... Overtaken. Smothered, and almost impossible to make out. Seeing it sickens Gabriel somewhat, and he can't help but see _why_ people seem so... _Inhuman_ under the influence of the drug. “This is the chemical we were able to isolate that inhibits someone's ability to remember things. By the look of things, we can safely assume that Talon intended to... Subvert these two gentlemen.”

“Subvert... Like they did me, or Lacroix?” Gabriel asks, having taken his seat at the end of the table. She glances his way and nods, saying nothing about his being mildly late.

“It would seem so, Gabriel.”

“What use would Talon have for Shimada Clan members?” Winston asks.

“Whatever it is, it isn't good.” Genji offers, his head tilting. “But... It isn't hard to assume. My brother has been missing from the Clan for many years now. Someone else must have taken over. I think we should find out the rank of these men, and how they were... Lured to the warehouse.”

“Do you think they were lured, actually, or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Gabe asks, and the cyborg looks his way, shrugging.

“The Clan is everywhere, Gabriel... But they are not as informed as we are, at least not unless something has changed... It's possible. You said yourself that Talon has wanted Hanzo for years. Why? Because they want his empire- but he has turned his back on that. So what is their next best option? Try to find a way in, like they did with Overwatch. Undoubtedly, these men had a reason to be here. They didn't simply wander into a remote warehouse that happens to be an unknown Talon arsenal for _no_ reason, Gabriel. They were lured there. We have to figure out who they were, and why.”

“Genji, you have more experience in this matter than anyone else. I'm assigning you with Agent McCree to find these answers.”

“Sir-” Genji interrupts, but Winston cuts him off.

“No. I know what you would say. We cannot ignore that McCree has... Significant knowledge of the case, and the area. He has a benefit that we need here, even if it might be risky. He has to move on eventually, Shimada. We can't coddle him forever. Besides, as you said, Hanzo hasn't been involved with the clan for years, which makes any running into him especially rare. That means that McCree is perfectly suited for this case.” Winston has an air of authority to him now that was seriously missing before, and it makes Gabriel respect him marginally further.

“Yes, Commander.” Genji relents, dipping his head. The gorilla's head twists back towards Gabriel finally.

“Reyes, you will remain on the Talon case. We need to find out what they're doing- regarding Jinx, regarding the Clan, and regarding Vishkar. I'm sending you to the Falkland Islands-”

“ _The where?_ ” He asks suddenly, having never heard of the place.

“The Falkland Islands are a set of islands off the coast of Argentina... An almost glacial region. We have reason to believe that Talon has an intelligence hub there. Few operatives, but plenty of agents... Possibly some mediocre hackers... Genji, you're dismissed for now. Thank you.” He says, and the ninja soon gets up and leaves- he doesn't seem eager about his own mission, or particularly, the fact that McCree is on it, despite how close they once were during Blackwatch. Gabriel looks back to Winston and Angela, and the Commander continues. “This one... This one, we think, might not be under ground, for once. Instead, it's hiding in plain sight. The city of Stanley is not especially large, but it's a tourist location, and that's how it makes most of its money. We're going to send you, posing as one of those tourists. When you arrive, your job is to infiltrate the building and find as much information as you can...”

“We know exactly where it is?”

“We know what building it is, yes, but it is surrounded by shops... Without an underground, there's not really any other way in besides the front door. Additionally, they'll likely be _expecting_ someone with your particular abilities. We need you to do this... The _natural_ way.”

“What do you mean, the _natural_ way? What the hell am I suppose to-”

“You'll have help, Gabriel,” Angela says softly, stepping forward. “I'll be posing with you. Sombra will be on the ship, keeping an eye out.”

“You need to do this as quietly as possible, Reyes,” Winston warns. “The idea here is that we do not want Talon to even _know_ we were there. Get in, grab as many assets as you can, and get out. Angela will allow some kind of distraction while you do what you do best.”

“ _Commander, I do what I do best as Reaper,_ not as a normal man!” Gabe insists, but before he can finish, someone cuts him off.

“You did plenty of good things as a normal man, Captain.” Jack has just entered the room, using his old title as a reminder. Gabriel smiles brightly, and Jack smiles faintly back at him.

“Commander,” Jack finally says to Winston, “I have a debrief with you, uh... Just now?” Jack asks, checking his watch.

“You do, Morrison. We were just finishing up here. Reyes, your mission starts at O-nine hundred hours, tomorrow. Take what time you have today to get yourself ready. You're dismissed.”

So, without another word, he left, casting Jack one small look before he slipped out of the room.

Angela met up with him, and walked with him to the medbay where her assistants were setting up a body for him to feed from.

“You'll do well, Gabriel. Just trust me, I have a plan. I'll go over it with you tomorrow on the ship.” And the man dipped his head in response. He did trust her, but it had been a long while since he had done anything seriously undercover in any format that wasn't in the dark, or involving a hood. Let alone looking like a tourist while doing it.

 

After feeding, the wraith felt refreshed and refueled, and went out to one of the envirodomes to soak up as much sun as he could manage. In shorts and a simple tanktop, the man lounged out on the grass, soaking in the artificial heat from the dome itself and bathing in the light from the overhead sunlight that filtered into the cavern. Eventually, as he began to doze, Jaelen found him.

“Hey Gabi.”

“Jay... Hey.”

“What's goin' on? You alright, ey?”

“Don't I look alright?”

“Don't pull that with me. I've seen you when you're happy. Somethin's off, even now.”

Gabriel looked away and sighed. The fact that he had barely seen Jack all morning and then, for a very brief moment, saw him in the meeting room... Then nothing, after the blisteringly hot moment the night before... And the inability to relieve himself of his natural needs.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” he says bluntly, and Jay looks down at him, realization dawning on her. She sighs somewhat.

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” he confirms, and she nods gently, eventually laying down on her back beside him. Eventually, they leave to do training, and towards the end of their session, Jack arrives and moves off on his own to do his own workout... Gabriel dips out of his training with Jaelen with a small, apologetic smile, and she lets him go.

 

“Hey,” Gabe says as he approaches the man, sitting at a weight machine.

“Hey,” Jack replies, looking up at Gabe, who seems moderately sweaty from his training with Jay moments prior. “You look like you've been busy. I didn't want to interrupt you.” Which seemed a lot like an excuse not to see him, Gabe thought, considering it had never stopped Jack before. It causes the man's head to tilt and he sucks in a breath quietly. And yet... He knows why the man is doing it. He had a sneaking suspicion when he didn't see Jack that morning, and the man may as well have confirmed it now.

“Is that how we're going to be now?” Gabriel asks forwardly. The abrupt question takes Jack by surprise, and his brows loft slightly. _I should have known he would see right through me,_ Jack thinks to himself, looking down.

“Ah... Look. Gabe... This isn't easy for me- for anyone. But maybe we shouldn't-”

Gabriel is walking away. There's something inside of him that cracks faintly. The wraith had really hoped that it wouldn't come to this... That they wouldn't be _having_ this conversation. That Jack would _actually_ say ' _fuck the rules'_ and be with him the way Gabe felt like they should be. Jack watches him go, not following, but also knowing that Gabe didn't understand the verbal beating he'd gotten late last night by a very _irate_ Commander. Did that matter to Gabe? He had to wonder. The words Winston had practically barked at him in his office rang through the Soldier's mind as he assumed his work out.

 _You two can't keep doing this! I understand that you have feelings for him, Morrison, but the UN is watching our every move! They're watching him. They need to know he's here for more than just you. They need to know he's here to actually help, and not simply abandon Overwatch the moment you're done with him. I know it's hard-_ Jack winces, because he had cut Winston off- sharply. When was the last time Winston had ever had a romantic relationship with anyone? It wasn't something he could just turn off. And, he wasn't going to simply _be done_ with Gabriel! He was never _done_ with Gabriel. Moreover, Gave left Talon of his _own_ will. No one had asked him to leave, or manipulated him into doing so, which should be proof enough that he was here because he wanted to be. _I know that. We can tell them that all we want, Morrison, but it isn't enough. They need to see it and to believe it- do you understand? I'm not saying it has to be forever, but it has to be over for right now. If you do this, you're risking not only Overwatch, but Reyes himself- don't you understand that? What do you think is going to happen to Gabriel if the UN decides that he isn't fit to work with us, Jack? Do you think they're going to just let him walk back into the world and be free, and live like a normal human being? No! Of course not. They'll shove him back into that cell, and tell the world what a mistake he's been. They'll ruin everything we're trying to accomplish here! You have to consider that- you HAVE to. If you can't do that, Jack... If you can't, there's going to be very serious repercussions._

Jack had wanted to argue more- but he had nothing. Winston was right. The UN had probably already breathed down his neck about it multiple times already. If Jack broke their trust, this was all over- all of it. And if he was _ever_ going to have a chance of having Gabriel back, he had to simply _wait_ here. It had to be this way, if even just for a little while.

Now he's watching Gabriel walk away, mildly heartbroken. Gabe doesn't ask why, or how... Or what he's suppose to do in the meantime. The man want's to rage. He _hates_ this. The UN, Gabe thinks, wondering why anyone needed them anyway in a moment of silent rage. Without Jack explaining, he understands why he was saying this now... They couldn't be doing this under such scrutiny- but at least _Jack_ could relieve himself, Gabe thought. He couldn't even do that- not even in the privacy of his own bathroom! _What privacy?_ Gabriel ultimately returned to his bedroom, as he was expected to when he wasn't with someone. A cold shower did little to soothe his upset, and the man ultimately ended up just going back to bed, despite having slept plenty long enough already.

He loved Jack... And he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Jack loved him. Why did it have to be this way?

 _Because... of me,_ a familiar, dark voice responded in the back of his mind. Because of _Reaper._ And.... Gabriel knew he couldn't be wrong. He had spent years killing people, feeding from people, torturing and terrifying people. Years, that he reminded himself, were because of his manipulation by Talon. The world had to see that he wasn't that monster anymore, even if it was still inside him.

 

The following morning, Gabriel was on the ship before he was even properly awake. Sombra shoved a coffee into his hand and sat him down in a corner seat in the cabin of the ship as Angela spoke with their pilots.

“You're going to need three more of those. I know.” Sombra said. “Don't worry, Gabe, I've made sure to spike them with extra espresso.”

He murmured a response. Too much sleep had made him groggy, and the idea of coming home to another night with a distant, barely-there Jack Morrison made him ache. He didn't want to think about it, and knew he had to get his head on the mission.

 

As promised, within a couple hours, the man was wide awake, and Sombra had managed to take his mind off of his pain for the time being. She was showing slides of the town they were visiting- Stanley- on a holo projected at the end of her fingertips.

“Why do all these barren, featureless places feel the need to paint their houses in bright, garrish colors?” he grumbles as he watches. Almost every roof was green, and the sides of each house, varying hues of red, orange, blue, white, tan, even more green... And the land itself? Barren as a rock quarry. There were short, dying grasses befitting the tundra that it was, but every tree that he spotted was undoubtedly planted by someone, and hardly looked like it was doing well. He was reminded of Greenland, except that Greenland was somehow prettier than this place, layered in a thick cloud of fog, dull, dark blue shorelines and docks, already overcrowded with tourists.

“They live here, Gabe. I suppose they do it to bring some color to their lives. I'm sure the insides are better looking than the outside. Besides, you're forgetting the type of crowd they attract... Tourists _like_ loud, bright colors, trinkets they can buy for almost no money, bags, shoes, cultural items... And this town almost exclusively survives on it. They've got to work with what they have.”

And as he looked on, he realized, she wasn't wrong. These people, not unlike those in Greenland, lived here for whatever reason- perhaps they chose to, or perhaps they weren't financially able to leave. Those who were here, however, seemed to have an immense pride in themselves, and that was something to bring a small smile to his lips. Triumph, he thought, didn't always have to _be_ pretty. In fact... Most of the time it wasn't. He should know that better than anyone, he realized.

“Anyway, you and Angela will be landing on the outskirts. There's a long row of shops that you can filter into-”

“Ah! Yes. Gabriel. I was going to talk to you about that.” Angela says, suddenly sitting nearby. “I thought that perhaps I could go in first... I'll appear lost, like I don't quite realize where I am. I'll ask for directions... In Swiss. They won't know what I'm saying, but I'll persist. That should give you plenty of time to get in and get further in. We'll have disguises... Yours is in the changing lavatory, waiting for you. I'll be switching into mine when you're done- I imagine I'll be taking a lot more time. I have to look the part, you know.” Her smile indicated that for Angela, actually getting out of the ship and being able to do something that wasn't _just_ healing was something of a thrill for her. The danger in the situation hardly seemed to occur the the medic, and yet, her confidence was heartwarming. He took it as his cue to go and get ready.

Gabriel knew he shouldn't have been surprised by what Angela had _clearly_ picked out for him to wear. He stared at it in very muted disgust as his arms crossed, leaning against the lavatory sink. Garishly bright blue with floral, tropically-printed designs- Gabe had always somewhat hated hawaiian shirts, not because of the shirts themselves, but because of the kind of people who were usually seen in them... And yet, the longer he looked at it, he wondered if she'd stolen _this_ particular shirt out of Jack's room. It certainly looked like something he'd wear. And khaki pants, brown belt... And because it was _rather_ cold here, a navy windbreaker jacket... With a hood. At least _that_ was tolerable. Gabriel signed, pulling his hoodie off his head and setting to changing. When he emerged, he heard Sombra snort a laugh before his glare cut her abruptly short. The hacker handed him something then- a pair of sunglasses, as even here, in this bleak environment, the sun could be blinding on the surface of the water and occasional snow... Yet, he knew it was to cover his eyes, which were hardly normal.

But then, he put them on, and his whole body _shimmered_. Something about it felt very, very wrong, and then he looked down... At his hands.

“What the actual fuck!?” Gabriel yelped, scrambling back against the door of the lavatory as Sombra promptly broke into laughter.

“Ay! Calm down, Cabron, it's just an illusion!”

“SOMBRA, YOU MADE ME WHITE!” He suddenly yelled, and it was loud enough that he heard the two pilots in the box up the stairs beside him suddenly break into laughter too.

“Not _actually_ ,” She snorted, the gleam of tears in her eyes, “It just _looks_ like it!”

“I don't like it. Take it off.”

“ _You_ take it off!” She snapped back, smiling widely, “If you really think you can even walk in the vicinity of a Talon base without them immediately recognizing you-”

“ _Can't you just make me invisible?!_ ”

“Mmm, not indoors, pendejo,” she snorted. “You just need to make it work, I guess... What a shame.” There was so much sarcasm in her voice that Gabriel wanted to choke her out- but looking at himself _felt_ strange. In fact, he was pretty sure that if he spotted himself in a mirror at any point, he might _accidentally_ break the expensive tech she was forcing him to wear. “You look the part, anyway. You need to come up with a name and a-”

“Jack Morrison-”

“ _That is not acceptable_ ,” she rebuked, smirking at his quick jab. “A name that isn't widely famous, maybe? And a story?”

“Why do I need those things? I'm not going to talk to anyone.”

“What if you have to?”

“ _I don't have to.”_ His voice made it very clear that he had no intention of doing anything more with this form than he had to, even if it was just an illusion. Angela was standing nearby, quietly covering her mouth with her hand, trying not to cry out of sheer hilarity.

“ _What,_ ” He snapped, suddenly sulking past her to the seats and dropping down into it, removing the glasses at once, knowing he wouldn't need them until they had landed, which was a little while out yet. The medic stifled her amusement and headed into the lavatory next, where she disappeared for so long that Gabriel lost track of time entirely.

 

When she emerged, she looked like a different person. Gabe had never seen her as dolled up as she was now. His eyes popped when she emerged, a brow raising as he looked at her. Her hair was brown, styled into more curls than he could count. In her eyes, green contacts covered the natural blue of her irises, and thick, black eyeliner around either. Smokey eye shadow on the back of either eyelid made the greens pop gorgeously, and Gabe had _no_ question that if Genji was here, they'd have to deal with him being distracted for the entirety of the mission.

“You know we're suppose to be undercover...” Gabe half stammered, and she beamed in his direction.

“Oh, don't mind me, Gabriel. It's been years since I got to go anywhere and have fun!”

“We're not _suppose_ to be having _fun_ , Angela.”

“ _Phah._ Speak for yourself! This will be fun for me. I like dressing up now and then. This will be a fitting distraction.”

 _Yeah, for everyone involved,_ Gabe thinks as he sinks down in his seat. Even with as much as he loved Morrison, he couldn't deny that Angela looked _stunning_. He'd have to keep in mind that she was the same doctor who starved him for _science._ Sombra had no qualms about uttering a lewd catcall and smiling in her direction, murmuring something in Spanish that was so quick and low that he almost missed it- it made him laugh somewhat, before everyone got over it and set their sights back on the mission itself.

The ship landed in stealth mode as promised on the outside of the city, not far from a few side streets that would lead them to the main thoroughfare. Angela left first, and reluctantly, Gabe slipped on the glasses that Sombra had gotten for him. He didn't like it, but eventually he disembarked the ship as well. The air was chilly, but the windbreaker kept the cold mostly at bay as he made his way down the sidewalk, marked with cracks from where water had gotten in, frozen and forged the gaps. He felt strange as soon as he began to pass other people- other tourists. No one looked at him, or even seemed to notice he was there. Cautiously, he checked one of his hands to make sure that his disguise was still in full effect- and _somewhat_ to his dismay, it was. Everyone was preoccupied doing their own things and running around, looking for the next eye-catching thing that a tourist would. There were even children here, bundled up from the mild cold like little multi-cultural burritos. It made sense to him then why Overwatch would all but demand the peaceful nature of this mission... Casualties, especially children, would look terrible regardless whether they were successful or not.

He followed along after Angela, a full minute behind, to avoid any suspicion, and before he knew it, he was standing at the front door of the place. It looked like a small office type shop, but it could have been easily mistaken for some kind of tech store by how many computers Gabriel spotted inside... And with them, a seriously enthralled Angela, who had managed to curl three of the four cashiers around her little finger. Eventually, the fourth, a clearly disinterested woman of older years, abandoned her counter and slipped over to try and help translate.

That was when Gabriel made his move, slipping in as quietly as possible, easily unnoticed by the others there. As easily missed as just another tourist in their peripheral vision, he slipped along the side of the wall until he found a door leading to an employees only area, which allowed him in without any trouble. The place looked especially empty today- an average Tuesday if he had to guess, and these employees hardly looked like Talon- but then, of course they wouldn't. Beyond the swinging door, Gabriel found a long grey hallway devoid of any appealing detail or design. There were four doors on either side, and one at the far end of the corridor, which was to be unlocked with some kind of keycard.

 _Jack_.

The small nagging thought in the back of his mind distracted him for just the briefest moment of what he was suppose to be doing. He stood dumbly in the hallway, before suddenly rushing forward and making his way through the nearest door on his left. As was expected, there was nothing here besides some boxes and storage and paperwork, regarding whatever it was that they were _actually_ doing up front. Moving on quickly, he quickly makes his way through two other rooms, and in the fourth, buried under a stack of paperwork, he finds a keycard that he can only _hope_ fits into the lock. He has no time to waste, knowing that Angela will soon run out of time, and so hastily, he slips from the room and shoves the keycard into the lock, and at first, he doesn't want to go, until he shoves it in a bit more forcibly, until it finally reads and lets him in with a very faint sound of unlocking. At first, he doesn't know what to make of the room, because it's got no light of any kind, and no switch to find said light. Beginning to worry, Gabriel fumbles into the dark as the door slides shut behind him, and he shoves the keycard into his pocket, knowing he might need it again to get out.

In this darkness, his eyes can not adjust- there's _no_ light of any kind, anywhere, and for the first time in the last three minutes, he begins to think this really _actually might_ be Talon related. His fingers pry along the wall to his right, scoping for anything he might be able to get ahold of and finding nothing, until after he's sure he must have been half way around the room, his foot catches something he nearly tripped over. It's a barely-raised section of the floor, a small panel like a trapdoor, and at once, he leans over, trying to work his fingers around it.

“ _Sombra. I have no eyes here. Help me._ ” He whispers, and Sombra does not reply. It seems as through whatever black room this is has also cut off all communication he has with her, and everyone beyond it. This makes him nervous, as he now has _no_ idea what kind of situation he might be in. Was Angela okay? How long had he been in here, and was Sombra freaking out on her end as much as he wanted to on his? Was this a trap that he had just willingly walked into? When the latch suddenly gives beneath his fingers, Gabriel is stricken aback by a sudden noise that he's sure the employees up front will hear.

It's... Voices.

“None of this was part of the plan, I assure you, Sir. It isn't as though we could have guessed-”

“ _What do you mean you couldn't have guessed?_ ” Akande's voice has never been more recognizeable. Reaper realizes that he's listening to some kind of recording- which the camera device he's wearing catches.

“Sir...”

“ _No. NO! This is not acceptable. Do not try to give me any more of your excuses. Are you listening to me? You're here because of me- because of US. If you want to ever see your little Vishkar plan come true, you need to do what I tell you, and you need to make sure you do it correctly._ ”

“ _SIR_. With all do respect, we did everything you commanded I have some of my best people on the case-”

“ _Do your people even know what they're accomplishing here? Can they even comprehend the level of importance we have allowed them to take?_ ”

“Sir, as per your orders, our employees are kept almost entirely muted to the true idea. They only know that they are working for the higher plan... And that's enough for most of them. Perhaps I will send one of mine your way... I believe her name is Satya. She's very... Gifted. Special, I guess you'd say. I have no doubt in my mind that she would be a powerful asset to you, and to Talon-”

“ _I am not INTERESTED in your assets, Chairman. Do as I ask, or else I'll be forced to send Sanjay a message he does not want to hear. Is that what you want? You saw what they did to Jinx. What do you suppose he'll do to you?”_

“And yet _we_ were not the ones who let Overwatch _steal_ Jinx away from you.”

The next sound Gabriel heard was not the kind anyone truly wanted to listen to- the sudden choking of a strangle hold on the throat followed by the horrific whine and whir of an all-too familiar weapon... The Doomfist, charging up, before releasing and being followed by a very sudden, abrupt sound of a messy splatter. The sound of a body falling there after ended the recording abruptly... A reminder to the Vishkar who _were_ in on the plan what would become of them if they failed again. And yet... No one had come from the front room to investigate... The room must be sound proof, he deduces quickly, shutting whatever small latch it was that had triggered the audio device in the first place. Why was it here, and what was this room? Undoubtedly it was holding more secrets than this one, and yet he knew Angela couldn't stall forever. He turns, making his back along the wall until he finds the door that let him in, and eagerly searches around the sides of it for the keycard lock until he finds it in the very center of the door itself. If there was more here, they'd have to find it later, because he was running out of time.

When the door opens, he steps out, just in time to hear the footsteps of someone entering the hallway, and he rushes into the nearest closed door and slides himself against the wall, sagging down, ready to pull one of his guns out of the very ether without a second's hesitation, even if that was very much _not_ the plan here. He can hear his pulse racing in his ears as he listens.

“Sir... I'm sure I heard something... But I could be wrong. I'm doing a sweep now.” So the room was _almost_ soundproof. Someone had heard him, but barely.

“ _Gabriel, heads up! You have bad news coming your way. Keep your head down- hide if you have to. Do NOT open fire. Can you hear me?_ ” Sombra barks into his ear, indeed panicked.

“ _Copy._ ” He whispers so faintly that he's sure she didn't hear him at all except for the sound of his mic clicking on and off.

“ _Good. Stay in cover. Angela is almost out of time. You need to get out of there ASAP._ ”

Gabriel wisely deposits the keycard back where he found it as he hears the man enter one of the rooms, search it, then enter into the one beside the one he's in now. When the door opens and closes again, and he hears the man enter the room across from his, he makes his move, slipping back into the room the man's just left, effectively evading him.

“Sir, yes sir. I'll change out my comm device immediately- it's possible that it was just interference... Pardon? No... No, Sir, I assure you I am not distracted. I am being as vigilant as possible...” The man says as he enters into the last unlocked room.

When he exits the room again, Gabe spots him through the crack in the door- earpiece gone- as he slides the keycard Gabe had _just_ used into the lock and lets himself in...

Now, Gabriel takes a risk. He knew the earpiece in question wasn't broken, and he also knew that the guardsman, which is what he was absolutely sure these people now were, would not be looking for it now that he was clearly going to fetch another one, somewhere inside that locked room... So back he went, as quick as he was able, so fast that his feet did not quite touch the ground, in fact. Even now, he could not keep Reaper at bay- not entirely, and before long, he had stolen the earpiece and shoved it into a pocket... As as for his escape? A window in the first room would crack just enough to let him out, before he shut it absently behind him.

“I'm out,” He breathed a sigh of relief into his comm, and heard Sombra do the same.

“ _Dios Mio, finally. Ok Angela, wrap it up... We've gotta go._ ”

There's no reply, but they both know she heard them. Gabriel begins to get curious as to where she is, as he waits on the side of the building, nothing more than a casual tourist staring at his personal holo, some old game not unlike the ancient classic, Tetris.

But Angela does not emerge.

 

Once again, that feeling of dread creeps into Gabriel, and he slinks back down the narrow alleyway, easing around the side by the front windows and glancing inside barely.

“Oh _Christ,_ ” he murmurs into his comm.

“ _What, what's going on!?_ ” Sombra asks, sounding concerned. “Is she ok? What did they do?”

“ _They didn't do a damn thing,_ ” Gabe snaps irritably, chancing another look.

 

Angela is leaning up against the counter, beaming like an idiot, laughing and joking in the worst fake broken english he's ever heard, her voice three pitches too high, her lashes fluttering far too much, and even daring to take selfies with the people there- including the _'not distracted'_ worker from minutes ago. She giggles coyly, until suddenly the white-hawaiian-shirt-wearing creep from the window suddenly pushes the door open.

“ _Natasha! Where have you been!? Lets. Go._ ” Gabe does his best to sound as Swiss as he can, somehow managing to sound even worse than her broken English. And yet, she can tell that behind Gabriel's facade, there is _real_ fury waiting for her. She smiles sheepishly.

“Ah. Danke. Sorry, sorry! Goodbye!” she stammers to the men who look equal shades of dismayed, sad and amused, before leaving to join Gabriel.

“ _What the actual hell was that, Angela!?_ ” Gabe scolds as they make their way back down the street.

“ _Natasha?_ You must be joking! Do I look like a Natasha to you!?”

“All of the Natasha's in my life have been attractive, Angela, you should feel flattered.”

“Well I'm no- oh. Do you think so?”

“ _Christ,_ ” Reaper growls as the woman struggles to keep up. “You could have given us away!”

“ _Hardly._ You underestimate the power of applied phermones, Reyes. I knew what I was doing, and it worked.”

“ _You drugged them?_ ”

“What? No. Of course not. It's a spray. Like a perfume. Just a little concentrated... Please, don't look at me like that. I saw the way you gawked when I first revealed myself.”

And instantly, he looks away- it's a good thing that he's still wearing these glasses, or else he might look like he was blushing. She laughs at him, and the two said nothing on their entire way back to the ship. He doesn't like the idea that he has, in some convoluted way, been manipulated by the same drug she used on those poor, if guilty, guardsmen... He realizes that with her selfies, she _also_ caught them all on camera... Identifying them.

Brilliant, really. It forces a faint smirk onto his lips as they arrive back at the stealthed ship and both carefully slip inside unseen.

 

“Alright,” Sombra starts as the door shuts, the engines start, and the ship lifts off. Gabriel hands over the comm device he had stolen. “What's this?” She asks.

“Record anything that comes out of it. I took it off of one of those guards.”

“Guards? You went into a quiet room, Gabe.”

“I know... It was pitch black. Couldn't see or make out anything. I'm still not entirely sure what they were keeping in there... But I got a recording... Something between Akande and a Vishkar Chairman- one of many, I'd guess... To keep the public oblivious. I have reason to believe that the pact between Talon and the Vishkar may be a tentative one at best... There's definite hostility. I'm fairly sure Akande killed one of them as a means of setting an example. They mentioned someone- a gifted Vishkar associate... It sounded like she was suppose to be some kind of bargaining chip, but Akande declined... I don't think he trusts them anymore. They seem to blame him for the loss of Jinx. Anyway... That guardsman was wearing that. He heard something, but he thought maybe it was just interference... It wasn't, though. I don't know who he was talking to.”

“Fair enough... Good work, considering you didn't have to be _yourself_ to get it done. I'll be having those glasses back now, _Jack_ ,” the hacker taunted, smirking at him. He'd actually forgotten he had them on, and in seconds, he was all too eager to have them off and as far away from him as possible. Minutes after that, he'd changed back into his normal clothes, too, and was content to sit in the corner of the ship and let Sombra and Angela analyze what he'd brought with him.

 

His mind was elsewhere.

 

White hair, blue eyes, a strong frame... A gorgeous smile and a charming laugh- the worst dance he'd ever seen in his life. Terrible sense of fashion, a sentimental memory, a sensitive mind, careful, if broken emotions, a hero's determination.

 

_Jack._

 

Jack, who wasn't there, waiting at his room when he got home hours later.

 

Jack, who didn't show up later that night, or the following morning.

 

 

A drop of forbidden water in a cursed desert. That was the brief affection he had had with Jack after his release that the Soldier had worked so hard to help achieve. Once again,

 

_this, whatever this is? It isn't allowed._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! This upcoming week, I'm going to be taking a week off to focus on commissions and making some money, really hurting for some right now, I hope you understand!
> 
> If you'd like to support me all the same, you can buy me a Ko-fi here: ko-fi.com/trishields or, better yet, buy a commission from me either for art (http://trishields.weebly.com/pricing.html) or literature. Artwise, I will not draw copyright characters, but literature wise, I'm fine doing some AU oneshots of characters from OW, Warcraft, Marvel, uhh... If you have another one, just ask. To commission me, please contact me via the commission form on my art site, or send me an email at trishields14@gmail.com. You can also reach me on DeviantArt (Trishields.deviantart.com) or on Furaffinity (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/trishields/).
> 
> The next chapter will be on 3/25/18.
> 
> PS, which would you prefer next, a McHanzo offshoot from Haunted, or the R76 Sequel to Haunted after this story is done? Let me know!


	49. Defiant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: heavy Smut

Angela has stopped giving Gabriel medication for his memories. In a way, he's glad for it. He feels now that if there was anything else he was going to learn about his past, he likely didn't want to know it anyway, or he would have seen it by now. Still, in his dreams, the song of birds and rustling leaves is too real.

 

~

 

“Is this it?” Gabe asks, laying out on the ground. His head rests against the bark of a tree that skyrockets overhead, and the warmth of the sun gently bathes the skin of his cheeks and chest. His shirt is off, somewhere nearby, and there's a hand on his chest, and an arm around his lower back, also bare.

“Is _what_ it?” Jack asks, his nose pressed intimately into Gabe's collarbone, littered with small hickeys and professions of love.

“The reward,” Gabe says, exhaling a puff of smoke from a small cigarette- one of the very few he'd had since the beginning, and even now, after SEP. Running Overwatch didn't exactly leave a lot of time for recreation, and now that the war was over, the UN was deliberating on Overwatch... Specifically, what to do with it, and who would run it... Everyone thus far speculated that Gabriel would be in charge- and why _wouldn't_ he? He had lead all the missions, given all the orders, seen to their recruits and gotten them through that hellhole... In a way, he expected it like it was just another promotion from SEP Captain to Acting C.O, to... First Strike Commander. _That_ would be interesting, he thought. “For the victory, I mean.”

“Gabe, if _this_ was all you needed to win, maybe we should have fucked out in the woods a lot sooner.” Jack laughs, his smile wide, his eyes bluer than the deepest sapphires Gabe had ever seen, his blond hair like threads of spun gold, tousled and messed up on his otherwise perfect head. It makes Gabriel laugh, and he can't help the faint blush that colors his cheeks.

“You don't need to butter me up anymore, Jack. I'm already here.”

“I don't care about that.” The Soldier said, leaning in and pressing a deep, intimate kiss to the other's lips. Gabe returned it, his arm around the man's torso pulling him a little closer. Their foreheads touch gently, and Gabe sucks in a breath, looking down at his watch.

“How long do you figure we can stay out here before that Egyptian woman starts hunting for us?”

“You mean Amari?” Jack laughs. “Hell. Who knows. She seems tough as nails. She'd make a good Second Officer, Gabe. You should promote her when they make you official.”

“Eh. I mean. I guess. I'd rather have you by my side,” Gabe muses, an Jack chuckles gently, reaching down to cover Gabe's wrist watch with his palm. “We don't have to go anywhere yet... Gabe... Are you... Alright?”

“...Yeah, sure. Why?”

“It's just... Your nightmares. They haven't gotten any better, even though the omnics are defeated. I think... I think maybe you should get some help for them. This organization is only going to get harder to manage. You'll need something to help you get some better sleep.” Jack's eyes are colored with concern, and Gabe can't help the small half laugh that sifts out of him as he tilts his head to the side, a hand reaching up to smooth over the side of the man's face.

“I've got all the help I need right here. Don't worry about it, Jackie boy. I'll find a solution... I promise. You don't have to worry about me anymore, alright?”

“I just... I know, Gabe... But I..”

 _“Shh.. Jackie,_ come on. Look at this place.” The dark man turns his eyes to the forest- the green, the sun as it filtered down through the leaves, the song of at least a dozen different species- somewhere across the world, far away from home. “Don't bring that worry here... This is it, all we need right here. That's what you want, isn't it?” Gabe asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Jack. Look at you. Corn-fed, royal white-bread hoosier,” Gabe teased, and Jack laughed at him,

“ _Oh fuck off._ ”

“This is _exactly_ what you want. Some wilderness somewhere. Some peace and quiet. Somewhere we could be alone. Somewhere away from paperwork and gunfire and recruits and the press...”

“I don't _mind_ the press... But maybe I just wanted to be alone with you somewhere.”

“Could have done that in my quarters, boy.” Gabe grins at him, and Jack gives him a small, playful shove, before kissing him again. When it breaks, the blond looks away, and slinks down along Gabriel's side to press his ear against his chest, listening intently to his heartbeat, a slow, steady, powerful thing. “Yes,” He admits. “This is what I wanted.”

 

~

 

When Gabriel awakens this time, it's to the realization that the memory was just one of a few sacred memories still lost to him... And however pleasant it was, it cuts him inside to know that Jack is not here. In fact, Jack's up a floor and down the length of a hall, likely fast asleep in his own bed... Covered in scars from the war they made against each other, in pain because of what the UN is doing to them... And they have no choice but to obey.

The room is dark, cold, and starts to wear on him. Though he always favored black and red, there's something about it today that unnerves him, and he dresses promptly after an almost scalding shower, then makes his way out into the rest of the base, still wearing the small surveillance gear he's required to. Training, then eating, then _feeding_ , then doing a work out in the envirodome, assessing information brought in by intelligence in briefs... The days began to mesh together, until the once-a-week occasion that Winston sent him on a mission with someone. These missions were hardly unlike the last three he'd been on... Specifically aimed at gathering information, attaining assets, and otherwise proving to the UN that he was trustworthy and useful. Cardinal often went with him, strengthening her own skill sets and getting use to her gear, and its filters. She became and adepts scout, and an unlikely seeming friend to both Olivia _and_ Lena. In a way, it pleased Gabe to see her falling into the lot so easily, and not constantly requiring his company- though the tough fighter made a point of finding him at least once a day for a few hours at a time, outside of their missions. And while he saw bits of her, Katie, Olivia and Angela a bit more... He began to see Jack a lot less.

It was a struggle, but he knew why. Seeing each other was a constant tease, a constant reminder of what they couldn't have, yet direly needed. It was easier to avoid the urge if they simply _didn't_ see each other, though now and again, Gabe would enter his room to find a hot cup of coffee, or some kind of treat waiting for him that he knew hadn't been put there by anyone else. When Jesse was around, and not tending to the missions regarding the Shimada clan, the cowboy was almost always around him, yammering on about some such custom he didn't much care for, or praising some ancient western that Gabe had never seen, or wanted to see. Most of the time, they just ended up talking about firepower, and why shotguns were superior to revolvers, and why.

McCree usually lost those arguments.

 

“Look. I ain't sayin' that your guns are shit-”

“You _implied_ they aren't that powerful-”

“Christ, Reyes, look, you throw them away every time you're done with em, and then you just _get_ new ones!”

“It isn't like that- it's... I _don't_ understand why this is so hard for you to understand, Jesse. I'm not making _new_ guns. It's the same guns. I just... You know. Move them.”

“But you make new shells for them.”

“I- What? No. No! It's the same ammo!”

“Then how does it kill anyone-”

“ _Holy mother of god, Jesse._ ” Gabe facepalms as he leans over the bar he's spotting for the cowboy, who bench presses beneath him, already covered in sweat. “See, look. I shoot the gun, right? And it goes into them.”

“And then you make new-”

“ _NO._ NO! There is just... Just one set, okay? One set of ammo. I shoot them. When they're dead, I take it back. I reform it, back into itself.”

“Alright but look, it ain't like didn't nobody see you make four of those fuckin' things on the freakin' holo a couple months ago-”

“That's because I have four of them.”

“Why in sam hell do you got four of them!?”

“ _So I can SHOOT four of them, Jesse._ Jesus. How did I ever let you into Blackwatch? This is not a hard concept.”

“Just couldn't get over my roguish good looks I guess-” The cowboy cheekily retorts.

“Fuck you,” Gabe snaps, unable to hide the amusement in his tone. Jesse laughs, and pushes up on the bar again an sits up.

“You alright, boss? Ain't seen a whole lot of you the last few weeks.”

“I could say the same thing to you, I guess. Winston's had me busy.”

“Really? Where?”

“Well... After that fuck-hole nightmare that was Stanley, he sent me to Nicaragua, Madagascar, and Philadelphia...”

“ _How exotic,_ ” Jesse retorts to the last. “I take it that it wasn't a vacation, then?”

“Hardly. A whole lot of nothing- some more proof of Vishkar's cooperation with Talon... Well. Somewhat. It's pretty obvious now that some of them have _no_ idea what they're doing, or who they're really working for. Do you know they _honestly_ believe that taking free will away from people will make things more peaceful and safe?”

“That's some hokey Assassin's Creed shit right there...”

“What the hell is Assassin's Creed?” Gabe asks, and then abruptly lifts a hand. “No, nope. You know? I don't want to know. It's probably one of your really old terrible western movies.”

“Not quite... Uh. Anyway. So what about them?”

“Well... We tracked down the Agent they had mentioned... A woman named Satya Vaswani. She's one of their best, or something... But she's hard to keep our eyes on. We don't, as of yet, think she's actually in on their plot. We will have to keep an eye on her. And, I'm sure you heard about how last week's mission went.”

“What, with the explosives? I heard you got a hole blown in you.”

Gabriel shrugs. “Reaper's good for a few things, Jesse, which includes random live grenades thrown into a hallway. I found a stockpile of explosives that Talon was keeping. After assessing them, they later told me that they're Shimada Clan weapons-”

“ _OH,_ right... yeah, they did mention somethin' about that. That I was suppose to be finding out the clan's actual plans. You figure that's why?”

“Overwatch needs to know why the Clan is stockpiling weapons. I mean...” Gabe shrugs, as the two begin to make their way towards the cafe to relax. “It makes sense that a crime organization like them would have guns... But grenades, and higher class weapons? Full sized bombs? Why? Why do they need that? What are they planning to do with them? Or, are they just selling them now? Have they become war profiteers during this time?”

“Well it explains how Talon was able to lure those guys to that arsenal, then.”

“Stolen weapons from the Shimada clan... Is that why Talon's been trying so hard to make _friends_ with them?”

“Better to have allies than enemies,” Jesse shrugs, “And Overwatch is starting to look beefy, if you catch my drift. Without Jinx, Talon might need real help- especially if trust is crumbling on the inside like you say it is.”

“Then I guess this falls to you, doesn't it?”

“Hell. You and I both know they only put me on this mission because I had ties to Hanzo a real long time ago.”

“They seem to think you know Japan very well, Jesse.”

“Well, I mean... Sure I do. I lived there a while. For a few years, after the fall. But that don't mean I know anything about the Clan.”

“Hanzo does.”

“You think he knows what they're doing now any more than we do? I seriously doubt it. I've looked all over that country for him, and ain't found him anywhere.”

“And _yet_ he saved your life earlier this year. I wouldn't underestimate what aid you can offer here... Just admit you're sour about the fact that you might have to come face to face with him again and you're not ready to. You'd love to be close to him but you can't-”

“ _That's enough_.” Jesse's voice is suddenly firm, and he snaps a glare at the man. Gabe slows in his step a moment, not realizing how tender a wound he'd just tread on.

“... Right. Sorry.”

“'Sides... I figure you know _just_ what that's like right about now anyway.”

And that stung... Not because Jesse was wrong, but because he was terribly, painfully right. Gabe sighed and looked down, walking to catch up with Jesse. They both seemed to be sharing the same discomfort here- but what would it have been like, Gabe wonders, if Jack actually had just _left_ the way that it seems Hanzo had abandoned Jesse? It was something he didn't want to dwell on, and though part of him wanted to _confront_ Hanzo about hurting Jesse at all, he realized he knew absolutely nothing about what had happened between them beyond a very short synopsis. And, he had never really met Hanzo... For all he knew, it was better that they were parted anyway.

 

But weren't there a lot of people who would say that about he and Jack, too?

 

“So if you just re-create the ammo, why do you bother to carry extra shells?” Jesse interrupts his thoughts with a mirthful jab, and Gabriel snorts, shrugging.

“I don't know. Why do you wear spurs?”

“They look good and maybe I'd just use them to step on someone... Someday. Somehow.”

“ _Right._ ”

“Okay so, so what if you were shooting silver bullets-”

“ _Jesse._ ”

“Wait, wait. Just hear me out- and you uh, re-formed the shot, right, would the werewolf still die, or like- would it live because you took the bullet out-”

 

“ _Shut up, Jesse._ ”

 

Two day's later, he's on his way home from a mission that had more or less come up completely dry. It seemed that Talon had begun picking up their smaller hubs and consolidating them somewhere else- a hidden hub that undoubtedly existed, but no one at Overwatch knew exactly where yet. Gabriel was tired, and he hurt. It wasn't that the mission had exhausted him- in fact, he hadn't even discharged his weapons once during this mission, and he was so numb that he barely even remembered what part of the world they were supposedly _in_ anymore. There was a dull ache somewhere in his spine, and the faint, sticky sensation of blood rolling down his back as he boarded the ship. Ana had him lay down immediately, and he almost at once went to sleep.

Later, as he laid on a hospital bed in the medbay of the base, he remembered the sound of the spring trap that had punched into him with the weight of a gunshot that had prompted his hasty escape from the strangely empty building. Angela tells him that they had recovered a small piece of technology that had been shot at him by a random, unexpected booby-trap laid inside the precincts of the now-abandoned Talon facility he'd been investigating. They had apparently been expecting him to go there, which isn't outside of their capabilities, except that Sombra argued, this tech looked _nothing_ like what Talon had before she left, even if the chemical it had been coated in was quite similar to what Talon was using on sleeper agents, as it were.

“Either they are getting very creative, or they have someone new working for them...” She said, shrugging, setting down the small item that looked a lot like a small poison dart, still covered in some of Gabe's almost black blood as it began to leech back towards him in small tendrils of black smoke. “I'm going to guess your healing is a bit slowed down by this... We'll have to be careful, if this is what Talon's working with now. It puts you to sleep, slows your healing... This is dangerous. Do you think Moira could have made this?” She asks Angela, who shrugs faintly.

“Back in her day, she was a brilliant geneticist... And she knows Gabriel's body probably better than we do. I find it hard to believe that this _isn't_ her work.”

“ _She's smart enough._ ” Reaper rumbles as he comes to, wincing as he tries to push himself up off his stomach, but at once, two soft, warm hands urge him gently back down.

“Not yet, Gabriel. The dose hasn't quite worn off. You're still bleeding. I'm running tests on your blood to make sure you haven't been injected with anything too lethal...”

“ _If it was lethal, I'd be dead, doctor._ ”

“... Right. Be that as it may, I can't permit you to leave yet. Not until this wound is closed. But, I have some good news.”

“ _I'm not dying?_ What's better news than that, Ziegler?” It was strange to Angela how _Reaper_ always referred to her by her last name, where as _Gabriel_ almost always preferred to call her Angela. It made it almost easy to know exactly what state of mind he was in.

“Well. Seeing as you've been compliant for the last three weeks, and the three weeks before that, the UN has decided to let you out tonight.”

“Let me _out?_ What do you mean?”

“Ah, well. Of course, you may not remember. Many of us missed the holiday, Gabriel- Saint Patrick's day... But there is a week long festival going on in Ireland- just a few hours flight from here. A bunch of us were going to go.”

“ _You know alcohol doesn't do anything for me anymore, Angela._ ”

“ _Jack's_ going to be there.”

 

. . .

 

“ _Fine._ Just get me patched up, Doctor.”

Angela smiles and chuckles faintly. “I'll go find you something to feed on while these tests run. That should help you along. Olivia, don't let him get up, ok?”

“Got it.” The hacker says, and the faint click of Mercy's feet across the stone flooring echo as she leaves the room. As expected, Gabriel tries to push himself up again- only to suddenly feel a _weight_ land on his calves, somewhere below the covering sheet- he realizes he's naked, which makes him uncomfortable.

“What the hell?” he growls as he looks back- Sombra is _sitting_ on his legs, playing a game on her phone, chewing bubblegum. “Get off me!”

“Just doing my job, pendejo. You're not going _anywhere_.”

“ _Sombra!_ ”

“SHH! Or I tell her you tried to run away and they won't let you go anywhere- understand?”

“God damnit, Olivia. You're lucky I don't _strangle_ you,” the wraith growls as he gives up his effort- the drug still too strong to let him shove her off the way he normally could. She laughs, and gently reaches down to pat him, not even looking up from her phone- she doesn't even realize she's just patted the not-so soft cush of his ass.

 

“WHY AM I NAKED?!” He suddenly yells, causing her to jump slightly, and more than a few heads turn their way in concern.

 

“You're decent, calm the fuck down.”

It's a rough, worn voice- one that Gabe had _missed badly_ in the last three weeks that he hadn't spoken to Jack, who had suddenly entered. The man's lips fall open just barely as Jack approaches, glancing barely over Sombra's shoulder before glancing down at Gabe, and the dark, bleeding wound in his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“It's sort of numb, but yeah. It aches. Where the hell have you been, Jack?” Gabe asks, equal parts relieved to have him back and upset that they didn't speak for so long.

“Around. Calm down, or Angela will have to sedate you.”

“She wouldn't dare.”

“Oh, don't tempt her, Gabe- I've seen what she can do with her pistol.”

“ _Right._ ”

 

Gabe had a hard time picturing Angela fighting anyone with her pistol out, ever... Somehow he doubted it would ever be good, for anyone involved, in any circumstance, no matter how dire the situation.

“You here to make sure I don't cause trouble?” Gabriel asks finally, and Jack shrugs, looking down at him.

“Are you planning to?”

“...I hadn't thought about it.”

The two share a small laugh, and eventually Angela returns, meal ready in waiting for him. Sombra and Jack leave the man for the time being, so that he can go and feed.

The feeding itself takes longer than it would otherwise, but eventually, he's healed. “We'll assess the device, and your blood... But for now, you look fine. Do you feel fine?”

“Not as tired as before, anyway. No pain, so that's a plus. You'll let me know if you find anything bad, right?”

“Of course.”

 

Luckily, they didn't find anything. It was a trap meant to sedate him- like a test. They presumed that Talon may have been trying to capture him again- to revert him, which was a scary thought... But at the same time, there hadn't been anyone _around_ to actually pick him up even if the trap had worked. At least, no one that they saw, anyway. Perhaps Moira was simply testing the new concoction the only way she could? Either way, it was another thing they'd have to look out for whenever he went on missions.

 

But tonight? Tonight they were on their way to Ireland. Gabriel couldn't remember the last time he'd been there. He was still required to wear the gear the UN had fitted him with, but outside of that? So long as he stayed with the group, he was allowed to be there- perhaps they had finally begun to notice the negative impact that the restraints were having on him... As a _human,_ and not merely some ex-terrorist monster that they had thought of him previously.

The ride doesn't take longer than an hour or two, and everyone's joking and playing music. Olivia brings Gabriel a drink as he leans against the back wall of the cabin while Genji and Angela do a small dance in the middle of the room. Ana jokes with Reinhardt towards the front of the cabin, and Jaelen talks with Lena and Jesse off to one side. Even Lucio is here, with the Meka-driving girl Gabe has barely seen in months. She's invested in some kind of hand held game, and so is the DJ. Everyone was there- even Alexandra- who everyone had simply begun calling Zarya, was loosened up with a few drinks with her, laughing, sometimes too loudly, with Torbjorn, and his daughter Brigitte who had begun doing work for Overwatch in the form of armaments and enhancements. Jack had finally mustered up the courage to come over and stand by Gabe as they watched on, and Gabe's eyes slid slowly towards him, a faint smile on his lips. Jack cleared his throat, but no words came out.

“Got something to say, Jack?” Gabe asks somewhat quietly, so as not to disturb anyone else there. “You're doing that thing where you shuffle and fidget. Just spit it out.” The man's voice was playful and teasing, and it made Jack look down and laugh.

“Ah... You know me too well, Gabe. Figured I belonged over here, I guess...” Finally, those blues looked back towards Gabe and their stares met for a moment. “I wanted to say I as sorry... For the last few weeks... I know it isn't... That it wasn't fair to you-”

“Jack-”

“No, I mean it. I'm sorry. I was told that I needed to back off... That we were jeopardizing things... And I just... I didn't know what to do. I should have just been up front with you.”

“Jack... Let's not do this now, alright?” Gabe says, looking down into the beer that Sombra had brought. It wasn't his favorite drink, but he wasn't going to complain about it given the holiday it was meant for. “I don't want to focus on the base tonight. What can you tell me about Ireland?” And Jack, tipping his head down somewhat pushes the words off for later.

“Not a lot. I've never been to this festival before. I'd ask Torb but...” They both glance his way, somehow feeling like the man might take offense if they tried- after all, he wasn't Irish- in fact he made it very clear to everyone all the time that he was Swedish. The two laughed a moment before trailing off into silence, letting their drinks soothe their thoughts.

 

The festival itself was a rather new tradition, at least in the grand scheme of history, it hadn't been around more than twenty years. A week long festival of drinking and dancing, plays and comedy, the appraisal of quality craftsmanship, not only in brewing, but carving and butchery of all things. As they disembarked the ship, Gabe found his senses assaulted by bright yellow and green lights, the scent of alcohol and cooking meats, oddly spicy and sweet with the faint aroma of honey. There was music in the air, most of it in a language he didn't speak, reminding him weirdly of some ancient fable. It wasn't at all unpleasant, and for a moment, he was able to forget that the UN was watching him like a hawk- especially here, now, in this public place. The world knew who he was now, and they knew he was free... Yet all the same, no one knew they were coming here. Would people balk at him, or hassle him? Would it be a problem for him to show up here, and, was there a threat to these people and this place because of their arrival?

These were all questions Gabriel didn't want to dwell on. They soon discovered however that _that_ wouldn't be a problem- because this place was more crowded than the red carpet on an opening night. Everyone was here, and no one was looking at them. No one would even notice them in this mass of bodies. Following along with his small group, it allowed Gabriel a closeness to Jack that he liked, bustling along just behind him, and more than once, he felt the faint brush of Jack's hand against his abdomen or thigh, though the two didn't say anything to each other, nothing that might give them away. Eventually, they all ended up splitting off into groups, and Gabe found himself with Jack, Jesse, Jaelen and Olivia. They wandered along the stalls of vendors, plucking up samples of treated meats, cheeses and booze, spicy concoctions that made Jack and Jaelen run for milk while the other three laughed at them. Then there was the drinking, which was slow at first. Most of them started early in the evening, and Jesse touted that he'd be winning that battle, but after a few hours, the two men were almost forced to carry him by how much he slurred and stumbled along. Jesse, for all his practice and bragging, could hardly handle a little more than a few strong beers... Though, if he'd had a few shots of something else before any of them got off the ship, no one would have been surprised. He laughed, loudly, and he seemed keen on letting anyone who got near him what he thought of them, which ultimately ended up with McCree being handcuffed to a chair with a gag in his mouth- which he might have totally enjoyed in any number of circumstances, beyond the one he was currently in, which involved watching everyone else dance and laugh around him while Sombra tormented him by eating treats innocently nearby, just in his line of sight.

Gabriel and Jack meanwhile got comfortable with each other somewhere in a crowd of dancing people, though Gabe had not wanted to arrive there in the first place.

“I am not _nearly_ drunk enough for this, Morrison.” Gabe insisted as a slightly-tipsy Jack tugged at his wrist and pulled him out into the throng of bodies. The dance floor was little more than a clearing in an open-air market with music, lights overhead in a way that reminded him of some of the little towns in Mexico, however few times Gabe had ever been there on family vacations.

“You can't even get drunk like that anymore, Gabe. Just... Pretend. For me.”

“' _For me?' What the hell, Morr-_ ” The wraith snorted, but suddenly there were people closing the gap behind him, and his way back to his seat seemed like trying to cross the Gobi desert without shoes. Or clothes, for that matter. “Christ... You know I never liked this-”

“Oh yes you did,” Jack insists, breaking out into his own horrid sense of dance as the music was upbeat and skippy, and Gabriel wanted to die inside. “You were just never good at it,” The Soldier insists. The words made Gabriel choke on his spit.

“ _Says you._ That is not how you dance, Jack. That's not how _anyone_ dances. Or should dance. _Ever._ ”

“Oh yeah? Then show me better.”

“What? Hell no-!”

“ _Chicken shit._ ”

“... What.”

“That's it. You're a little chicken shit.” Jack teasingly barks back at him, and for as much as Gabe wants to crawl under a table, he's not about to have Jack with _that_ terrible dance stand there and tell him how it's suppose to be done. Gabe had seen dancing, and he was _good_ at dancing... He was just... Moderately shy when it came to actually doing it.

Reluctantly, he began to sway, and in a few seconds, he let the music _actually_ get to him, despite that it wasn't at all what he'd prefer, and he fit right in. After a few moments of shocked impress, Jack eventually tried his best to imitate. Gabriel, seeing some errors, reaching out to tweak him him, and the slight touches were more than enough to remind them of what they were missing. As their eyes met, Gabe drew his hand back and looked away. Jack smiled faintly, as if he was blushing. It made the wraith smile back at him despite that they said no words. At the end of their few minutes of dancing, they touched again, tentatively, but it was little more than a grace of Gabe's fingers against the man's side as he coaxed him _out_ of the crowd and back towards the table they had snagged, with Jaelen and Sombra now both indulging in treats and cakes that were starting to look good. They sat and ate with them, only ungagging Jesse when he promised to behave- though they perhaps wisely kept him bound to the chair. The music and festivities did not seem to end, and it was well into the early hours of the morning when they all finally managed to make their way back to the ship, which had been stealthed somewhere safe, just for security. Jesse was half asleep by the time they got in, drunk out of his mind, which he seemed to really _prefer_ , and Sombra and Jay were both pleasantly buzzed. Jack was buzzed too, even now, and he couldn't help the occasional laugh that fell out of him.

Gabriel was drunk on his smile, and the sound of his laugh, the sight of his horrid dancing, and a parade of fond memories running through his head. The ride home was significantly quieter than the way out, and everyone began to wind down, at least a little, but Gabe didn't find himself tired like the rest- not that he hadn't drank. Oh, he had, but as Jack had pointed out, it didn't _quite_ work that way. In fact, Gabe had yet to really find a way that disoriented him that way that wasn't a deliberate drugging. He wondered idly if _feeding_ off of someone who was drunk would have the desired effect... Though he doubted he'd ever get the chance to test that.

When they finally get back to the base, half of them are asleep, though Jack and Gabe are not among them. This place has begun to really feel like home, and Gabe is both relieved, and somewhat sad, when he arrives.

“Hey,” Jack says as Gabe starts to make his way down the hallway to his quarters, and the man turns to look at him. “I, uh... I'm not quite tired yet. Do you want to watch something?” Jack doesn't want to say goodnight yet, and it's obvious. Gabe nods, and finally, the white-haired soldier catches up with him, and Gabe lets them both in. The Soldier puts on whatever old show is on Gabe's holo, and the other sits to start removing his boots. Soon, Jack sits next to him, and after a few episodes, they get to talking.

“Does it get any easier, Gabe?”

“What specifically?”

“Doing all this. Coming from such a dark place and making your way back here. Did you always know you wanted to leave Talon?”

“... No. I mean. No, to all. I... Suppose as Reaper I had no idea I would leave Talon. Part of me felt, and wholly believed that I was doing the right thing. I suppose for a while I felt like you- felt like the world deserved what we were doing to it. I bought into the lie that Talon fed us, and still feeds them... But now I come back here...” he pauses. It's hard to put into words how things have evolved around him. Jack can see the struggle, and waits patiently. “In Blackwatch, we did terrible things. In Talon, we did terrible things. In SEP, we volunteered to have terrible things done to us, so that we could do terrible things to others. Even in the military, we did that, before SEP. Jack, we've always been fighting for things we've believed in- always. Our whole lives, every fight we've ever done was based on our perception of the way things were, and how we felt they should be. I look at us, and then I look at Talon... I'm... I'm not saying they're similar. I can't say I relate to them- I don't. Not anymore. They're obviously corrupt. Then I look at the UN, and what has been done to me, and others-” Was it safe to talk about this here, now, in front of the UN cameras? He didn't know, and it caused him to hesitate.

“No. You're right.” Jack says finally, able to see where Gabe was going with it. It was safer for him to say it, than Gabe himself. “We have done bad things. All of us have. It doesn't get easier for me, either, knowing what I've done, even after coming back to this place... But I work to make it better. I keep fighting to try and make the world what I think it can be.”

“And I'm here to try and fix what I've done to it, Jack.”

For a moment, a heavy silence sifts between the two. As Jack stares at him, he realizes something strange. Something... Miraculous.

Gabe says it as Jack realizes it.

“When I first started fighting, I wanted revenge. I wanted revenge for Henrique and my Mother. I wanted revenge for their deaths, and after Overwatch fell, I wanted revenge for what I felt like had been done to me by Overwatch. When I left Talon, I wanted revenge for what I felt like they had done to me, and to Amelie... And in some respects I still want justice for that... But Amelie has chosen her path now. She _chose_ to be the way she is currently, just as I chose to leave, and rejoin Overwatch. But it doesn't get easier, but I can't help but feel like maybe I should have done something- said something. Helped her get away from it. Show her the light... But..”

“You can't help people who don't want help, Gabe.”

“... Yeah. I know.” He looks down somewhat, his mind venturing back to the memory from earlier. It makes him smile some. “You know, I stopped taking Angela's medication. For my memories.”

“Did you? Got them all, then?”

“Oh. I don't know if I got them all... But I think I've got everything that's crucial. The forest... I remembered that... Recently. I can see why you miss it.”

Jack looks down, suddenly blushing- Gabe realizes that he took it lewdly, and laughs.

“No, no Jack. I just meant... It was calm. It was nice. Before the drugs. Before Moira, before Reaper. After the war... A peaceful moment. That's all you've wanted, isn't it?”

The quiet between them intensifies, and Jack sighs somewhat, looking down. The din of the show is ignored between them, and Gabe sits slightly closer to him, and Jack leans into him.

“Gabe... I don't think I was _meant_ for peace. Not really. I've been fighting so long. I have so many scars-”

“Not _all_ of your scars were put there by you, Jack,” Gabe suddenly says, abruptly turning to face him, a hand coming up to catch the side of Jack's face, fingers delicately turning his head so that they can look at each other. Gabriel's thumb traces over the thick, pink scar that cuts across Jack's face... Which he put there on the last day of Overwatch. “There's something you don't remember, Jack. Something you don't realize.”

“What's that?” The Soldier asks, his voice tentative, quiet and almost timid. Blue eyes search Gabe's chestnut stare adoringly, soaking up every ounce of attention that the Reaper is willing to give him regardless how taboo it may have been at the moment.

“That day... The blast, where I gave you this. You tried to talk sense into me. You tried to tell me what we were and who we were to each other. What we meant, and all that we'd done together. You've always thought that you _failed_ to remind me... But you didn't. When the blast went off, you fell. You were out- I saw you... Unconscious. I had the ability to leave... To flee and let you die... I suppose that was the original plan, wasn't it? To leave and let you die, to meet up with Moira and go... Wherever it was we were going to go. But... When I saw you there, your cheeks stained with tears... Everything changed. When you told me that... That you would have _married_ me... Jack...” Tears had come into Jacks eyes. Gabriel was looking into the face of the man he had met in SEP. That stalwart hero, that adoring recruit who cared about him... The man he had fallen for despite that they _never_ should have been intimate. Despite that it was _illegal_ then. The man who had taken a risk, and kissed him on a catwalk in the rain in the middle of the night. “I couldn't do it, Jack. You brought me back, for a second. I pushed your body somewhere I knew you'd be safe. Somewhere the blast couldn't kill you. At least, I hoped... It was all I could do before the blast got me. I would have told you I was sorry. I would have said yes. I would have-”

Jack suddenly kisses him, hard. He leans back on the couch, and Jack takes up the extra space, leaning forward, brows pinching inward as he fails to hold back his tears. Knowing, after all these years, that _Gabriel_ was the reason he survived is more than he can bear. Knowing that he _did_ bring Gabe back is all he had wanted for so long... Gabe kisses him back, hands curling into the folds of Jack's coat, pulling him near. They kiss for a long moment, passionately, ignoring the camera pinned to Gabe's front, before Jack finally sobs and breaks the kiss.

“I'm... I'm sorry, Gabriel. I didn't know. If I had... It would have changed so much. So much of how I thought of you. Why I gave up on you-”

“ _Shh._ You had no way of knowing... And I set the explosions off in the first place. You reacted the way anyone would have in those circumstances.”

“ _Thank you, Gabriel. I..._ ”

“ _Shh._ ” The man hushed him again, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that fell down either cheek, foreheads touching. Reluctantly, Jack pulls back, well aware that they will probably get a strong talking to for even just this much. Clearing his throat, he apologizes, and sits back.

“I uh... I should get back to my room. It's late. Tomorrows busy, probably.”

“...Yeah,” Gabe replies sadly, and the two men rise, embrace each other once more, before Jack departs. The sound of the door sliding shut behind him makes Gabriel's heart sink. He moves away to his bedroom, ghosting out of his clothing and into the bed without any consideration for the clothing itself, or how cold the bed felt after hours of absence. He knew it would take at least an hour for it to warm up properly, thanks to how cold Gabriel often was to the touch. His eyes closed and he let his mind wander.

 

It didn't get far before he heard the sound of the door to his quarters sliding open and then closed again.

 

Instinctively, he glanced that way, to see Jack suddenly walking through the bedroom door and to the foot of his bed, throwing off his coat and working at the buttons of his shirt, eyes primed on Gabriel.

“Uh... Jack... What are you doing?!” He half gasped, turning onto his back to look at the Soldier, covers sliding down off his torso slightly.

“I'm sick of this. I'm sick of this stupid game we have to play to appease the UN, Gabriel.” He said this well aware that the cameras were on. “We love each other,” The man said bluntly. “As we always have. Why should we pretend not to- why should we hide it to make them happy?”

“Jackie... The contract-”

“ _The contract_ said you had to sleep in your own bed. It didn't say _anything_ about no one being able to sleep in it with you.”

 

Gabriel's eyes widened.

 

There was a _single_ loophole in the wording the UN had chosen, and Jack had found it, and now he was here, crawling forward onto the bed, over Gabriel, and planting his lips firmly against Gabe's in a heated, needy gesture. Gabe kissed him back, but broke it to look into his eyes.

“They can see you- this. Everything. Everything in this room-”

“ _Let them watch,_ ” Jack almost snarled, and it made Gabe smile with a sort of blush. “I'm tired of things keeping me back from you. I've tried too hard and waited too long to have you again. Nothing's going to stop that now. I love you, Gabriel.”

“... I love you too, Jack.”

“No, Gabe. I mean... I love _you._ All of you. Your strengths. Your weaknesses. I love what you've done, and everything you sacrificed. I know that you became what you are in an effort to help us. To help _everyone_. It isn't a _monster,_ Gabriel. Reaper is part of you. He's always been part of you. I knew that from the first days I got to really know you... And I love it. You wouldn't be the same without it. I didn't fall for some tame, ne're-do-wrong hero, Gabriel. I fell in love with a man who was willing to do whatever it took to keep us safe. And you did. You saved me more times than I can count, and sometimes more than I even knew. You saved _millions_ of people, Gabriel. We've all hurt people in one way or another. _None_ of us are innocent. They saw you save me- they saw _Reaper_ save me. And they'll see him save other people, too. And if they can't handle _this_ , if Overwatch can't run and have you and me be together, then I don't _care_ what happens to it. You were my goal, and have always been my goal. Maybe I lost sight of that somewhere along the way, but not now. Not anymore. I need you. If they want to get rid of you, then they'll get rid of me, too... And I won't care. If we have to run, then we'll run. I'll go wherever you go. I swear it.”

The words almost bring Gabriel to tears. His eyes gloss over, and Jack kisses him once more, willing them away. They continued to kiss, making it intimate, until Jack pulls down the sheets covering Gabriel and crawls into them himself. Sliding between Gabriel's thighs, he lets their hips meet, and his lips trail down the side the wraiths neck. Already, Gabriel is exited, so much so that Jack can feel his arousal pressing against the thin fabric of his boxers, which are now all that separate the two bodies. Thicker, black plumes of smoke roll up and off of Gabe, brushing against the Soldier's paler form, and within minutes, it isn't one set of hands, but two, that are feeling over his chest and back as the extra arms slide forward, coming into play. Jack feels the familiar, intoxicating sensation of Reaper _consuming_ him- not literally, but that trapped, entwined, vulnerable feeling is one that he'd gotten addicted to. Claws play against his flesh, teasing small welts to the surface as Gabe shifts, moving his lips down Jack's jaw to his neck, then shoulder as well, where he bites. There's the tell-tale sting of those thicker fangs as they press tightly against his skin, and only when Jack encourages him with a hand on the back of Gabe's head does the Reaper bite _harder_ , penetrating the skin and leaving Jack with four new, small, slowly bleeding punctures. Then, the man begins to suck on the spot, not so much interested in the blood as he is in leaving a dark hickey on the man, marking him dominantly as his own. It's a possessive gesture that Jack adores, and the faint gasp he emits followed by a low moan makes it obvious. Before he knows it, Gabriel has wraithed out from beneath him, and is now behind him, pressing his body up against the Soldier's back and teasing his teeth against the nap of his neck. Jack's arms slide beneath the pillow, pulling it forward and clutching it against himself. There are hands all over him, and now that Gabe's behind him, he can feel the slow prod, the deliberate drag of those claws against his thigh, and the way they tuck into the boxers and drag them downwards. There's a hand on the back of his neck, another on his chest, teasing at one of his nipples, while the last teases slowly over his abdomen, drawing slowly, almost agonizingly downward, over Jack's naval, and lower, until he feels the sudden, slightly cold touch of thick, clawed, callused fingers smoothing over and around his eager, neglected length.

“O-oh... _fuck._ ” Jack pants unexpectedly, and he can hear Reaper's dark, alluring laugh somewhere behind him, rolling into his neck and shoulders as the wraith offers up as much affection as he's able. Luckily, he's managed to keep the covers up, almost entirely over them so as to keep them decent, even if someone _was_ watching.

“ _Shh, Jackie. Wouldn't want anyone to overhear you..._ ” Gabriel teases as he had a few times before. “ _Looks like I'll have to do something about that myself._ ” As he says it, the hand at the back of Jack's neck slides forward, around his jaw, tracing his middle finger over Jack's lips, and the man opens up at once. Gabe slips his finger into the man's mouth, letting it slide across his tongue, and within a second, Jack's lips have closed around it, tongue teasing against it, brows pinching upwards as the digit slides further, emulating the cock that done similar multiple times before. It did a good job of shutting him up, and effortlessly muffled the sounds that Gabe threatened to force out of him. Then, the chill of something cold and wet suddenly shocked him as Gabriel had popped open a tube of lubricant- a detail he had somehow missed as those fingers invaded his mouth. It was Gabe's hand- or one of them- teasing over his opening as he leaned over him from behind, guiding the lubricant where it needed to be, and over himself as well.

It was a shock then when suddenly one of those fingers, clawed or not, dared to dip carefully into him. Jack would later appreciate the delicate way Gabe was able to pry into him without hurting him, but at the moment, all he could feel was the way he was suddenly penetrated. It had been weeks since they'd had each other, and in his effort not to be tempted into doing things, he hadn't touched himself either- at least, not where _Gabriel_ was suddenly touching him. His mouth opened in a silent gasp around the man's finger, his legs going taut as he held himself upright.

“ _Mmmn, you're tighter than I expected... Really trying to abstain, weren't you, Soldier?_ ”

Every word Gabe said set Jack on fire. He needed more, and almost eagerly pushed back into the hand, his moans muffled into the finger still teasing across his tongue, which had been joined by another. Jack craved this- feeling Gabriel over him, surrounding him, _inside_ him. He needed it, and with every breath, he made an effort to pull just as much of that dark smoke into his lungs as he could, _tasting_ him in the back of his throat where the fingers denied his tongue. Being entirely, completely at the man's mercy was the drug to which he was helplessly addicted. He wanted this control taken from him, and used on him. Jack didn't mind being dominant now and again himself, but Gabriel had played that role far more than he in their relationship, and there was no one else to whom he had, or would ever willingly give himself to, to submit to, the way he did with Gabriel. This felt _right_ in ways he couldn't explain. And for Gabe, it was obviously fulfilling. Since he had become Reaper, there was no one who he could really express himself to in a way that he felt comfortable with, and even the brief lust he'd had outside of Soldier had been at the demand of a drug in his system. That had never been _his_ choice, and it had never been intimate the way that _this_ was intimate. No one really _wanted_ Reaper the way that Soldier did, and there was no one with whom he felt the most comfortable revealing himself and giving himself to. Jack understood him, and even before he had become this creature, Jack had loved him. Now, after the fact? Jack still loved him. Few people could say that.

The lubricant made it easier for Gabe's finger to slip in, and he did, one knuckle at a time, slowly working into Jack more deeply. Responding to each little sound the man made, he manipulated his finger within him, stretching him open a little more, and carefully coaxing the pad of his fingertip against the other's aching prostate. Jack began to moan heavily into his fingers, palm cupping his chin and forcing him to remain at least moderately quiet. After Jack quieted down, a second finger joined the first, renewing those pleasured sounds, coupled with the tautness that accompanied the intense sensation. Beneath him, barely able to hold him up, Jack's thighs trembled and his toes curled, spine bending towards the bed as he pushed himself into the rolling fingers, almost whimpering into the touch. Gabe knew he could finish Jack this way- but did he want to? No, he decided, he's much rather finish Jack _the traditional way_.

Jack was worked open all he needed to be, ready and waiting, almost begging for him. Gabe slicked down his own cock and tossed the bottle aside, smirking down at the Soldier as he spoke again, removing his fingers from the other's mouth in doing so.

“ _What do you want, Jack?_ ”

“You know what I want, don't tease me, Reyes.”

“Oh, but I _like_ teasing you, _Morrison._ ” Leaning in, Gabe let his lips trace along the side of Jack's ear as he spoke, whispering into it. “ _Tell me what you've been thinking about._ ”

What _hadn't_ Jack been thinking about? The words made him tense up all the more, and he shuddered, looking down, cheeks burning with a hot blush. “ _You know-_ ”

“ _Tell me, Soldier... What you were thinking about tonight, when you were looking at me._ ”

Another shudder threatened to roll through Jack as Reaper spoke to him, that rough, gravelly voice, otherworldly and alluring, whispering to him, demanding from him.

“ _I... I wanted you._ ”

“ _Wanted me? How did you want me, Jack?_ ”

“ _C-Christ. O-Over me! In me... Fuck, do I have to beg?!_ ”

The harrowing laughter there after made a chill run down Jack's spine, and he felt his cock throb hard into Gabriel's stroking hand, bubbling precum to the surface.

“ _Yes. Beg, Soldier._ ”

Jack's mouth fell slightly open, slack-jawed and nervous, craving him, craving the monster.

“ _Reaper._ ” He whispered. “ _Fuck me. Just fucking take me._ ”

Once again, Jack's begging was all that Gabriel needed. He leaned forward, allowing his tip to touch just lightly to Jack's opening, hands all moving so that two of them were on his hips while the other two were on his shoulders, holding him down and steadying him as he pressed inward. It took a bit of effort, and a wince on Jack's part before the wraith finally gained entry, and when he did, the Soldier gasped, an audible cry of sharp, but enjoyable pain. Hands clutched tightly at the pillow propped up beneath him, and he sucked in a breath, bracing himself for Gabriel's girth, a difficult feat for anyone. His teeth grated together, and he only barely suffered down the urge to bite into the pillow as Gabe pushed further in, and further still, until he heard Jack whimper. Around him, Jack's opening throbbed, tightening and trembling against the intrusion, or else Jack was _intentionally_ tightening just to make it more enjoyable for him, which forced a deep, lustful groan out of the man, a rumbling thing not unlike distant thunder. With a heavy thrust, he hilted the man, making Jack cry out and grip the pillow so tightly that Gabe could hear his fingernails tear into it. Enraptured by the sound of it, he began to piston, hips rolling back and then forward, into the man again and again, each time making Jack murmur some kind of curse. Reaper quickened his pace, his hands shifting, one moving to the back of Jack's neck again while the other reached down, prying an arm off of the pillow and pulling it back, pinning it behind Jack, which the Soldier groaned hotly against, feeling somehow _even more_ trapped. On his hips, the other two, significantly darker, more wicked seeming hands dug their claws into Jack's skin, leaving small marks that they'd both admire later.

Gabriel took Jack until the Soldier was a quivering, begging heap beneath him, sweating across his shoulders and back, thighs trembling with each new thrust in that brought him fractions closer to his ultimate peak. When it came, he was not ready for it, and gasped suddenly, toes curling, legs tensing up entirely as his cock jerked and spasmed, spilling onto the sheets beneath him. Reaper took that as his queue to reach his own climax, and redoubled his efforts against the man, who now _had_ to bite into the pillow to keep himself quiet as Gabriel drove himself relentlessly against his over-sensitive prostate. It was several more minutes of almost agonizing pleasure before he finally came, growling into Jack's skin as he bit into his shoulder once more, the sound primal and heavy with desire. Carelessly, he seeded Jack, claiming him and pressing his weight down into the exhausted man, who now panted along with him. Greedily he soaked up the heat of his flesh, stealing it for himself as he blanketed him in that thick, black fog that he had become. Nothing was said, no words needed exchanged for what had happened. Eventually, the extra arms dissipated, and Gabriel shifted off of Jack, laying beside him. It wasn't but a few minutes of recuperation before Jack turned, curling into Gabe, tucking the pillow beneath their heads and draping his arm across the shade's exposed torso. Without any consideration for the sheets or the mess they'd made, both promptly fell into an exhausted sleep, warm and comfortable... Relieved, finally.

 

Both of them knew there was likely going to be some kind of hell to pay in the following days.

 

But... Jack had sworn, now. Nothing would tear them apart.

 

Whatever hell came for them, they would weather it together, as they had before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, and please let me know what you think in the comments. Given last weeks question, and the opinions of your fellow readers over on our discord server *cough* https://discord.gg/uetujrT *cough* It looks like we'll be getting an R76 sequel after Haunted is done, then a McHanzo story later on. 
> 
> If you do want to join the discord, please be mature and behave (preferably be) over 18 years old. Be respectful of other peoples opinions, dont spam, and just be a generally nice human being. We talk about plot, play OW together sometimes, discuss various stories, share art, fanart, other fanfics. It's become an amazing community =).
> 
> Want to help me keep writing, or want to tip me on what you've read so far? Buy me a ko-fi. ko-fi.com/trishields


	50. Feed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Heavy Gore

By the following day, Gabriel wants to crawl into a shell and slink into the ocean and never return. Not only did the UN watch the entirety of his and Jack's late-night meet up, but _someone_ at the base thought it would be just the most _brilliant_ idea to share it with a few of his friends.

Now, like any flame through a California brushfire, it was taking off. Everything, and every _one_ was in a panic. No one knew what to do or how to properly approach the topic. Winston? Outraged and obviously terrified. Ana? Awkward, but amused somehow. Jesse just kept giving Gabe weird little winks in the hall, like he approved somehow. Jaelen just wasn't anywhere, and Sombra was doing everything she could do to shut down any _trace_ of the videos reaching the public. It was bad enough that they were circulating among the UN, and that the UN had called in an absolute fury of what they somehow saw as a violation of their rules despite that the two were _technically_ within their rights given that Gabriel's contract had not specified anyone sleeping with him as being illegal.

_Granted, they hadn't slept for part of that, but..._

 

Gabriel found himself at the Cafe, hiding from most human contact, which, not surprisingly, cleared out the moment he arrived. Word of what had happened had fled through Overwatch, somehow, and he wasn't even really sure he wanted to know the source. Overloading his coffee with extra sugar, cream and flavoring, he retreated to the farthest corner of the cafe and just... Sat there, feet oddly propped up into a seat across from him to discourage anyone from sitting down or even thinking of engaging him.

That didn't discourage Katie, who ordered a drink from the only remaining brave server and wandered over to him. She took the third seat at the round table without a word, but a long sigh slowly sift past her nostrils, content to lean back in her seat, prop her feet on the coffee table, and sip her drink. It was a full minute and a half before she forced on a smile and finally spoke.

“...So.” Gabe had never heard her say anything that sounded so heavy and awkward as this.

“ _Mmm, Don't._ ” he advised in that quiet, rumbly, echoey voice, reminding her that he was _not_ in a good headspace at the time. Looking down, Katie struggled to find words to say to him.

“Uh. Listen-” she started, until he lifted a single finger off of his coffee to hush her.

Katie, not to happy with the silence, raised a brow at him, and pushed herself out of her seat. “Look. Jack's fighting the battle alone with Winston and a slew of other UN officials right now. He could really use you.”

“Were you sent here to _fetch_ me, Katie?”

“No. I was just the only one who knew exactly where to find you who was _willing_ to talk to you. Listen. I'm not mad, okay? I'm not. I think you two had every right to do what you did. And I think you _should_ have, but, sweeping this under the rug is not going to make this go away. Go to the Command Center. Talk to them. Be by his side, at least.” Then, she turned and strode away, letting the door to the cafe slide shut behind her. Gabe sat there in a small, fuming mess before finally forcing down the last of his coffee and obeying. She was right. It wasn't fair that Jack was up there getting grilled alone, even if he _had_ initiated the sex. Gabe had wanted it, and willingly let him stay and sleep with him. He had every opportunity to turn the Soldier away, but he didn't.

 

By the time he reaches the Command Center door, he can hear shouting from the debriefing room, off to the side, which is also shut. Having no time or patience for pleasantries or knocking, Gabriel phases through the door, sliding beneath the cracks of it and reforming on the other side.

“Well! It's about time, isn't it!?” Winston shouts as he enters. Jack is sitting in a seat near the end of the table while the Gorilla bellows from the front. “Do you know what you both are going to cost us? What the hell were you thinking?! I don't even know where to begin with you-”

“How did you even find out this happened?” Gabe interrupts coolly, doing his best to sound like he wasn't phased.

“How? _Sombra_ is how. She was keeping an eye on outgoing data when a strain that would normally have just been observed was _saved_... In more places than just the archive! It was saved, Gabriel, like on a phone!”

“ _A phone?_ ” Jack sounds mildly horrified.

“ _As in a hand-held holo-screen personal phone, Morrison. Someone RECORDED it!_ ”  
Gabe feels the blood slowly drain from his face, and Jack is paling even moreso. Now, Gabe had never been a public figure, but even he had gotten used to some level of scrutiny and limelight in Blackwatch... Not nearly the amount of publicity that Jack touted, however.

“Do we know who, and can we stop them?” Jack asked.

“NO! OF COURSE NOT. She can't follow the signal that far, and even so, trying to do that would be an interruption of their privacy rights!”

“But the UN _must_ have rules and regulations against such things-”

“Of course they do! But that is _their_ internal issue! We're not even allowed to touch it! I'm sure they're busy investigating into it now!” Winston is just... Really red. _Really. Really red._ Gabe tries to remember the last time he saw Winston this infuriated, and the only memories that come up weren't good ones. _Maybe he shouldn't have crushed the monkey's glasses._ Gabe's been standing frozen at the door for a solid two minutes now, silently willing that no one tries to enter in behind him.

“So what do we do?” Jack finally asks.

“WHO KNOWS!” The Ape roars. “We wait, I guess, to see how many days we have left before the UN calls to disband-”

 

The phone in the center of the table rings.

 

A large holoscreen behind Winston lights up. Unidentified number- Classified, more like, and everyone there feels their stomach drop. No one wants to answer that call. Winston slowly sucks in a breath... Gabe already has a plethora of ideas running through his head as to how this is going to go. That _this_ was how Overwatch was going to end- over one _hot_ fuck in the middle of the night. Silently, he slinks into the seat beside Jacks and says nothing. The Soldier reaches over and touches his hand beneath the table, looking for some kind of comfort. Gabe returns it, if hesitantly. Winston manages to calm himself down, barely, and reaches out to push a single button on the device to answer the call. The lights in the debriefing room dim immediately, and the large holo-screen comes to life. For a long moment, the bitter, aged looking woman on the other end of the screen stares at Winston and company without a single sound, glaring, cold, and contemplative. Behind her, there is a black screen of cloth, just like there always is, keeping everything else out of the line of sight. But, they can hear commotion- shuffling, faint yelling.

“I trust that you know why I am here, Gentlemen,” She says, and Gabe can see Winston swallow hard, nervously.

“Ambassador. Please, allow us a moment to explain-”

“Explain? What?” She laughs in a way that is derisive and makes Gabe's stomach sink. “What is there to explain? Are you going to tell me that this is some kind of mistake? Some kind of _accident?_ ” Abruptly the video of her changes and shifts, turning uncomfortably onto the actual _sex_ _tape_ that was making circulations at the UN, and additionally, at the Overwatch base. It's Jack and Gabe in the throws of rough passion, right down to a few of Gabe's dirty whispers thrown in for good measure, and Jack's heated, panting breath. Despite that they had been covered by a blanket, it's still _pretty_ explicit, especially the way Jack's toes curl just outside the cover of the sheets as _Reaper_ gets into him. Jack visibly sinks into his seat- he wants to die, obviously. Gabriel feels somehow worse now than he did when he'd been caught with Widowmaker. He struggles not to simply let Reaper take over and solve things the way he _usually_ does. _With guns._ Eventually, it flips back to the image of the UN Ambassador who has been conversing with Overwatch almost exclusively.

“What are _you_ going to do about it?” Gabriel finally says, growling somewhat, a bit terse, and uncomfortable with the stress of what they're now going through. Jack and he had been leery of exactly this happening but now? Now it was too real. In their face. No one wanted to see this. Gabe didn't want to ask himself whether or not doing it had been worth what was clearly coming.

“Well that's just the question, isn't it?” She asks, her eyes leveling on Gabriel entirely. “You boys certainly gave it some thought, didn't you? Did your homework-” As if it had been some kind of grand plan to get into it, despite that it hadn't. Neither of the two say anything as she grills into them. “And I suppose I could say, you're right. _You're right._ There's nothing in the contract about other people sleeping in your bed _with_ you... Let alone what else was _clearly_ going on. But what does this _say_ about you as a person, Gabriel, and you, for your _so called integrity, Morrison?_ How do you suppose the world would take it if they knew that the man with such a _huge_ vote of confidence for _Reaper_ just so happened to _also_ be sleeping with him? Don't you think that might _skew_ impressions _just a little bit?_ Let me make this very clear to you, Gentlemen. This operation- this _whole_ thing was meant to see if Gabriel was trustworthy or not. And, to see if Overwatch had the _capability_ of running with supervision and advisory, let alone being allowed to just do as it pleases as you _have_ been for months now- over a year, in fact. What do you think our impressions are now? What do _you think_ is going to happen to you, Gabriel?”

Gabriel does not answer, as the image of the cold, dark cell with no food, the sensation of starving to death slowly crawls back into his mind.

“I won't _let_ you do that!” Jack says suddenly, snarling as he gets to his feet, eyes livid. “He has done everything you asked, and hasn't broken _any_ rules! I am the one who initiated it- so punish _me! After all, I'm a criminal too!_ Or, are you suddenly willing to look the other way because the people I killed didn't _matter_ to you, because you decided they _deserved_ to die anyway?!”

His words are harsh and cut like butter, easily seeming to strike the Ambassador as she stares at him. Somewhere behind her, the yelling escalates, though no one can quite make out what's being said.

“Uh... Listen. Let's just all settle down-” Winston says, stating to sag a little bit himself. “Lets talk this through. I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement-”

“Arrangement? Reyes and Morrison have gone directly against our commands and gone out of their way to skirt the contract, which is just as good as violating the contract itself!”

“To terms that were unfair and meaningless!” Jack protests vigilantly. “We were doing just fine _months_ before you guys got yourselves involved. We had made _tons_ of progress against Talon _without_ you and with _Reaper's_ help, on our own, without supervision, all the while we were being _intimate_. It has no bearing on whether or not he's trustworthy! It was a bullshit demand and everyone here knows it! Reyes has accomplished more than enough since you've been testing him, and to his credit, he _has_ avoided breaking your rules as much as possible! Isn't that why you let him go to Ireland with us in the first place? To reward him?!”

“Ireland was a test, Morrison. A test that you both eventually failed at the end of the night.”

“Uh... Wow. Can we just-” Winston is struggling to keep control of the situation. It's becoming very clear that Jack was, and still is, far more adept at being a Commander than Winston is, and likely ever will be. “Look. There's another issue here. Sombra detected a separate signal- another _recording-_ ”

“We are aware of the footage leak, Commander. We have already detained-”

 

“DETAINED?!” There is a sudden yell from somewhere behind her that makes everyone in the room flinch. “You ain't detained SHIT! That phone is MINE!” A man has suddenly thrown aside the curtain behind her, leaning obnoxiously into the camera frame and almost shoving her out of her seat. He's a thin looking computer nerd with glasses and short, groomed black hair, mid-thirties maybe, with a shoulder tattoo, just so that you'd be reminded how much of a badass he is. His UN uniform is already ripped and his face is red, like he's been outraged for the last twenty minutes.

 

“ _Calm yourself, Gregory._ ”

“NO! FUCK YOU, _BRENDA_. THAT'S MY PHONE AND I WANT IT BACK!”

“Security!” She suddenly barks, and seconds later, the phone call abruptly ends and the holo-screen goes black.

 

No one knows what's going on, or what's going to happen.

 

The next day offers up complete radio silence across all fronts. No one hears anything from the UN, and the UN makes no attempt to contact them.

 

The following day, the video hits the public, and all hell breaks loose.

 

The public is outraged, not only because their golden hero is sleeping with the 'terrorist,' but because the authority they rely on to police Overwatch cant even be trusted to treat people fairly- imprisoning people for atrocities, then committing their own, and letting their inside people leak details god knew where. The world is momentarily thrown into chaos, and Jack and Gabe can't help but feel like they did Akande's job for him. The public, who had been on the verge of accepting Gabriel's attempts to prove himself, now backpedal in disappointment. Gabe doesn't want to even think about what Rosa must be going through right now- he can only hope she's gotten somewhere outside of the public scope of view.

Everyone begins to speculate on what's going to happen. The UN is under fire almost as much as Overwatch is, but as Overwatch currently responds directly to the UN, it isn't _Winston_ who has to answer all the hard questions. The UN stands in interviews, in press releases on almost a daily basis for almost a week, trying to soothe irate politicians with outraged citizens from all over the globe. Questions like, what's going on? Can we trust Overwatch? Can we trust Morrison? Reyes? Is the UN to blame for what happened? Did they treat him so badly that Reyes chose to rebel? When will we get to talk to Reyes himself? Who else is the UN detaining? Do they know what happened to the disgruntled employee? Who was he, and did they imprison him too? Have him assassinated? And perhaps the most important question of all:

 

Why did Overwatch _need_ the UN when Overwatch seemed to be functioning just fine without them? What was the UN contributing to the fight against Talon that wasn't complicating Overwatch?

 

That question was so heavy and imposing, that it became the driving force behind a thought that many considered dangerous...

 

Free Overwatch. Let them keep doing what they were doing. Let them do what they did for decades. Let them protect the world.

 

… But could they do it with Gabriel? Should they? Should he be punished for his betrayal all those years ago? Was imprisonment enough? Was it safe to trust him with something so crucial?

 

“I'll have to talk to them, Jack.”

“...I know, Gabe. We'll talk to them together,” the Soldier said, laying out in the grass in the back of one of the envirodomes with Gabriel, lounging in the sun. “We'll convince them about you. We'll figure this out.”

 

For the time being, Gabe's cameras and surveillance were still on, just because the contract hadn't been technically canceled yet, or _officially_ violated. Time would tell what would happen, but for right now, they enjoyed each other's company- if only slightly less physical. The world knew their secret now, so there was no point in hiding it, though they did keep the sex out of the picture at least for now. That didn't stop Jack from leaning over to kiss him in the heat of the sun, the light warming their flesh as they passed the hours, waiting for... For _something_. Needless to say all the missions were grounded. No one was going anywhere... So what was there to do besides lounge and train?

 

Jaelen finally came around, though she pretended like nothing was wrong, it was clear that she was at least a little embarrassed.

“... What's the matter with you, Jay?” Gabe asked as they entered the training ring- fighting each other for once.

“What?”

“You're barely speaking. You didn't even bring a smoothie with you today.”

“Oh. Sorry, _princess,_ I didn't go by the cafe.” She teased, and Gabe snorted, binding up his hands and preparing for the fight.

“Come on, Jay,”

“Oh for Christ sake, Gabi. Why you always gotta think somethin's wrong?!”

“... Case and point. You're being defensive. Why?”

“ _God._ Look. Okay. Alright. _I really didn't want to get into this but-_ ” She was suddenly moving forward and taking the first swing. Gabriel deflected it barely, but even the minor strike was painful, a reminder of her mechanical parts buried beneath the skin. “I look up to you, you know? You're like- a lot of the things I wish I could be.”

“ _What,_ ” He balked, this time throwing a punch, which the woman dodged with ease.

“Like... You're loyal and stuff. You care about people. You think about your actions. You've gone through so much and you just keep getting back up. Not a lot of people could go through what you have, you know?” And suddenly she was spinning, kicking out a leg in an effort to trip him, which failed as he was able to jump over it. “And me? Look at me. I ain't got nothin' left of my old life. The place I came from. The people I knew. Nothin'. You're all I got. This place is all I got. And the last thing I wanted to see that morning was you givin' the old Soldier a thorough check-up if you know what I mean. Bit like seeing your parents fuck- just cause you know it happens doesn't mean you want to see proof. And now the whole world has seen it, and they're gonna look at you like that-”

He put out her words with a sudden palm strike to her chest that sent her onto her back with an exhaled grunt. Stalking forward, he held a hand down to her, and in the silhouette of his form in the light, she could see the red in his eyes, and the faint drifts of smoke lifting up off his frame, the extra arms dangling, ghosting behind him, unused. “I'm still the same man, Jaelen. Nothing's changed. And since when do you think I've cared about the way the world looks at me?” His hand extended down to her, offering to help her up. She took it, tilting her head some.

“Never, I guess... I just. I don't like it. You're an idol to me, you know? I can't stand seein' people talk about you like this.”

“They can say whatever they like, Jay. They don't _know_ me actually, do they? People will always draw their own conclusions. I love Jack, just like I loved him then. I knew when I started this that it would be hard to persuade them... But I've done a lot to help them... _I did a lot then, too._ Didn't matter then, either. I'm _tired_ of playing their little game, Jaelen. They either want my help, or they don't.”

“And if they decide they don't?”

Gabe looked down and shrugged faintly. “I guess we'll see what happens to me, won't we?” But his eyes suggested that he was _not_ going back into that prison, and wherever he went, Jack was going with him. Jesse would probably go too, and by extension, Jaelen herself. “That's enough of that for now. Stop worrying about me, Jay. Just keep to your training. It's your turn.”

 

~

 

The cold is the first thing that strikes Reaper as he awakens for the first time. His eyes, a horrifying black and red, stare open at a dim green light in a domed laboratory. Despite the frigidness of the room, there is a sensation of dampness all around him, pooling beneath him as something runs off of his chest and lands on the table below him. He's bound, but he doesn't know why. A numbness begins to settle into his body which aches for some unknown reason. Overhead, someone comes into view, a shadow he can't quite make out. Red hair, mismatched blue and red eyes, expensive headgear, a smile darker than it is comforting. “Ah, there you are, Gabriel,” She says sweetly. “I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it.”

Gabriel? ...Yes. Yes, that was familiar, wasn't it? Gabriel Reyes... A name he knew intimately, and knew at once that it was his... But beyond that? Who he was? Where and why? He had no idea.

“What is this place? Who are you?” His voice was grizzled, rough and harrowing. “How do you know my name?”

“Ah, slow down, Reaper. You need to regain your strength.”

“My strength?” he asks, for a moment not even questioning the name she seemed to have give him. “Why am I bound? Who are you- _Speak!_ ”

“ _Tch, Tch,_ Calm down. I am your rescuer, Reaper. Be still, and careful. You're bound because procedures like the one we gave you to save you can sometimes have... Difficult side effects.”

“ _Rescuer? Why do you keep calling me that?_ ”

“You were attacked... Be slow. I will answer all of your questions as soon as you're stronger. You need to feed, first.”

“ _Feed?”_

 _“_ Saving you was not a cheap feat... There were prices to be paid for what we did for you... You need to feed to keep yourself strong. Not the conventional fair, Gabriel... There are some things that only a _similar_ body can give you.” She was undoing the cuffs at his wrists now, and helping him up. For the first time, Reaper got a good look at his body- scarred from head to toe, pale, much like a sheet, and there was a gnawing hunger in his body unlike any had ever felt before. At the same time, he felt _sick,_ like if he stood, he might be nauseous. His eyes drew slowly across the table, at himself, nude all except for a dark cloth that kept him decent. Black smoke unlike any he'd ever seen- as far as he could remember, which wasn't much, rolled up and off of him, metallic and thick, even out of his mouth when he spoke. Despite not knowing what it was, he knew without question that this wasn't _normal_ for him, regardless who he had been before now. Then, bit by bit, a scent drew his attention, and his nose lifted, and with it, his eyes. There was a stare leveled upon him from across the room, and the moment their two stares met, she screamed. She, a prisoner, bound to a pole, her long blond hair dangling and wet, freshly cleaned as though she had been recently hosed down... She was bound at her wrists to a pole no taller than two feet, which forced her onto the ground. Cattle being offered up to a vicious predator. And as she looked at him, with the _way_ that she looked at him, Reaper _knew_ he was the predator. _Feed._ The word echoed in his head, and Moira followed his gaze to the woman, likely not even out of her college years, her clothing ripped and matted to her form, cut and bruised by whatever means they had used to get her here. Before he knew it, Reaper had moved, his eyes wide, unblinking, transfixed upon her- before suddenly turning to the woman beside him... Wasn't she _just_ as acceptable fodder? Couldn't he _consume_ them both? The geneticist looked back at him, with his animalistic eyes and the way his darkness clouded up around him, giving his intentions away. “Come now, Reaper. You want answers, don't you? I can help you get them. Who do you think brought her here?” She asked, tilting her head at the woman... Reaper knew he _should_ feel sadness for her. That he should feel some kind of remorse for what he was about to do... That killing was _wrong._.. But...

He didn't. He felt nothing. Nothing but hunger, and _rage._ A rage he couldn't quite explain that radiated from somewhere inside him. The sort of thing he wanted someone to _pay_ for. He had moved from being on his back to being on his knees, hooked, black claws patched around the side of the icy metal table, cloth discarded, leaving his entire body bare and exposed. Moira made a point to jot down a few notes in some kind of book that hadn't left her hands since she released him. The man's tongue slipped out from his maw, tracing over dry, cracking lips, and as the quivering girl dared to stare back at him again, he hesitated.

“ _Feed!_ ” Moira commanded harshly, causing Reaper to jolt as she barked the order at him as though he was a dog. The minor spark of adrenaline she sent through him was enough for him to suddenly launch himself off the table, his body becoming almost nothing at all as he collided with the floor and black miasma plumed out around him in a thick black fog. The woman screamed again, but as she did, the wraith was coming for her. Reaper didn't even really know what he was doing. This felt wrong, but natural at the same time, like he was obeying some kind of instinct. His legs had not quite yet reformed from his fall, but that did not stop his arms, first two, then four of them as they clawed across the ground, pulling him ravenously towards the woman as she struggled against the pole to which she was chained. The blood at her wrists was a clear indication of her effort, but it was not enough to free her by the time he reached her. Like a frenzied beast, Reaper tore into her, claws ripping at the clothing and flesh beneath, carelessly rending through it and staining it red as he jerked her down onto the floor with him. His legs had finally begun to reform, and he forced one of them onto her leg, breaking the bone with the precision of a trained combatant, and the strength of a super soldier. Again, the woman screeched, this time in pain, scrambling around as much as she could to escape him, using her own hands and the chain to try and keep him at bay. Moira seemed to delight in the show, observing as Reaper first tried to get to her throat with his hands, which failed as she kicked at him with her one good leg. When that failed, he went after her throat with his bare teeth, brutal looking fangs that had replaced each of his four canines, larger and thicker, more similar to that of a tiger's than any vampires. However, this too failed, as she ducked her head down, and a vicious, infuriated roar tore out of the man, inhuman and barely _earthly_ at all. The two extra arms that had come from who knew where suddenly ripped forward, and upwards, latching onto the sides of her head, tearing into her scalp.

 

Seconds later, his thumbs buried themselves into her eyes all the way up to the knuckle, and he felt the bone of her skull break beneath his grasp. Finally, she stopped moving, and almost obliviously to the blood on his hands, Gabriel laid her down, and let his body do what it seemed to want. His mouth opened first, wider than it likely ever should have. Arms held him aloft over her broken body, and he leaned forward, _inhaling_ her. At first, nothing happened, but slowly, the black mist that plumed off of him began to twist and take shape, tearing forward into her, fazing through the woman's clothing and into her body, and when they came away again, she was paler, thinner, and the cloud was thicker. Slowly, Reaper began to feel better- and stronger. The extra arms on his back became slightly more solid, and his aches and pains began to dissipate into almost nothing. There was a satisfaction that came from this- a sort of joy... A _pleasure_ in killing that he was _sure_ he'd never felt before. He continued to feed until there was nothing left of her but a dried husk of a human, her skin dry and stretched across her frame, her mouth open in a permanent, silent scream of excruciating pain. And Reaper felt _nothing_ but good. He wanted more, and soon, he twisted back, looking at Moira.

“ _More..._ ” He growled, crawling forward, and Moira chuckled, leaning back against the table he had been laying on, her book closed and held loosely across her chest. Reaper rose up finally, stalking forward, his darkness starting to quell itself at least somewhat. She looked... _Especially_ accomplished- and as though she didn't fear him at all, despite that he felt like she _should_ have.

“You'll have more.” She promised finally, looking down at him- after all, she was still _significantly_ taller than he was, which was a feat to be sure, but he showed no signs of backing down. “You see, Reaper, I have a job for you... Or rather... _We,_ do.”

“We? _Why_ do you keep calling me that?”

“Because, you called _yourself_ that.”

“What? When. Tell me _everything_.” He demanded. Moira's brows lofted faintly at his demands before letting her eyes drip down the length of his form, seeming to size him up before she huffed at him. “Clothing, first. Have you no shame?”

“ _...No._ ”

“Ah. Right.” Of course he wouldn't. Reaper was more beast than man anyway. “Well, there is tactical gear waiting for you in your new quarters.”

“My quarters... What is this?”

“This?” She asked, sliding out from in front of him and beginning to stride away, towards the door to lead him out. “This is Talon.”

 

Hours later, Reaper had everything he needed, including clothing. Overwatch had done this to him, they said. Attacked him, when he had been on their side. They'd needed a scapegoat onto which to blame their failings while Gabriel carried out the dirty work. Jack Morrison? Just a man who'd been in charge. Nothing more. Ana Amari? Reinhardt Wilhelm? Cogs in the machine that needed to be torn apart. Talon had gotten him out and put him back together, barely. Overwatch was a corrupt organization that ultimately saught to make everyone tame and complacent. An organization which would cripple the world if it was ever allowed to gain a sure footing again. Conflict was what had driven armies to form, people to rise and shake their fists. Conflicts made people stronger, and it was a necessary part of existence if the human race wanted to continue. Talon wasn't demanding him to join them, but was offering him a place at their side to help undo the organization that had done this to him. Moira would help him get what his body needed, and together they would continue the work that Talon had been trying to accomplish for years. _They_ and the disaster they caused are what had cost Reaper his memories, and if he wanted them back, he would have to work with Talon. They would come in time. Until then, it was best to do whatever he could to help the cause. Moreover, there was another victim of their crimes- Amelie- who had accepted her place as one of their primary operatives and who was now crucial to their organization. Reaper, he found out, was the name he had given _himself_ when he was first 'rescued' by Talon. Gabriel Reyes was dead, he said. _Reaper_ was his name now... It was because of that that he decided to _stop_ going by Gabriel at all. Overwatch had killed that man, and taken that history _from_ him.

 

Now, they would have to deal with the monster they had made.

 

~

 

Gabriel wakes up in a cold sweat, bolted upright in his bed as the covers slide away from him... Safe in his bed, at Overwatch. Jack isn't with him, but he knows the man is safely away in his own bed as well. Finally, he's seen the whole story... Everything, as far as he can tell. Moira did this to him. Talon fed him the lie, after he _went_ to them- no, after _Reaper_ went to them in his vicious, drug-infused rage, and asked them for help... They had _erased_ his mind and twisted him in their favor. They had corrupted the very core of him, and only now, years later, was he shaking free of it. There were goosebumps all across his frame, prickling against him, making him lean forward into his palms, wiping away a few shed tears of rage as he struggled to catch his breath. _Moira._ She had so much to pay for. They _all_ did.

Gabe shoves himself out of bed and showers, shaking off the horror from the nightmare- the _memory_ \- of who, and what he had been.

 

He's half way through his lunch later in the day with Jack when the first bombs hit.

 

Like before, the alarms go up all over the base, loud and obnoxious, hideously frightening and calling everyone's attentions to the screens wherever they happen to be. This time, the attack is in a far more populated area- or, more so than most of the other places: Tokyo. Jack and Gabriel abandon their meals at once to flee towards the command center, where they can watch with the others, already collecting there in droves.

“Initial signs are... Confusing. These weapons are not like any we've ever seen before, though authorities have already been dispatched to try and assess the damages and push back the unknown assailants.”

_Unknown assailants?_

Cameras explained just as little as the media casters did, as they struggled to peer through the clouds of black and brown smoke in the midst of the battle, trying to see who, or what, was attacking. There were no black ships, no glaring red lights... And _no_ Doomfist. This wasn't Talon. Everyone feels their stomachs sink towards their knees as they try to comprehend what was happening. Buildings weren't going down, but glass was breaking everywhere. Multiple times, the audio on cameras was cut out before the cameras themselves seemed to cease working entirely. Flashes of bright blue pulse-light rocked viciously through the sky, lasers that seemed to cut into anything they touched before _suddenly solidifying_ into massive pillars of pure metal that plummeted towards the earth and crushed anything in their path... Including defenders, civilians and homes.

“What are we going to do!? We have to do something!” A frantic Lena shouts from beside Winston.

“I don't know that we can-”

“What!? You can't be serious! We _have_ to go! We have no choice!”

“The _UN_ -”

“Is _unresponsive,_ Winston,” Ana points out quickly and sharply. “Unresponsive and unreliable. If we stand by and do nothing, we'll prove that we're nothing more than dogs on a leash.”

“But we will be _disbanded_ -”

“Not if we _succeed_ ,” Jack suddenly erupts into the conversation. “Not if we prove we can do something about this, that we can, and will defend people in the time of need! The world needs us, Winston! Isn't that why you started this all back up in the first place? We can NOT allow the UN to cripple us, especially with how disorganized they have become in the last few days! If we want to prove to the world that they need us, and that they want us to remain around, we have to do something, and now!”

Everyone knew Jack was right,and it wasn't the first time the ex-commander had made a bold call like this. Ultimately, Winston caved. He knew it was the right thing to do... And if they waited around for the UN's decision, they may well be on their way to being disbanded already.

The entirety of Overwatch is deployed, and their fastest ships are sent to the fight, aimed to uncover _anything_ they could about the unknown attackers who were obviously using some kind of advanced light technology, not unlike what the Vishkar were using to rebuild buildings, but these were doing _anything but_. And it wasn't Talon, though, an hour into the flight, Talon _arrived_ , taking advantage of the chaos and suddenly throwing more gunfire into the mix. Three massive warships arrived overhead, and buildings began to fall even more quickly than before. But... No Doomfist, even now. The cameras glimpse tiny peeks into what's going on amid the ongoing catastrophe- light weapons, heavy machinery, _underground_ vehicles that have quite literally torn apart the subway systems and made escape almost impossible. Heavy smoke bombs of the highest caliber make seeing anything on the ground floor impossible. It's hard to know who Talon is even fighting, or if they're working together with these new people. But, so far, they don't seem to be too discriminant on who they're aiming at. Already, Overwatch Soldiers take to the ground, beyond the high profile operatives that are still making their way there.

Finally, the ship with them on it begins to lower, and their senses are assaulted by the sudden odor of gunfire, the sound of screaming, and the flashing lights of gunfire, both red and blue. As they disembark the ship, Gabe drifts into the smoke, and stops dead in his tracks.

Beside him, drawing to a sudden halt with a gasp and a sudden sharp growl, Jack raises his pulse rifle, staring down it's sights in shock, horror, and disbelief.

 

They're standing face to face with an omnic.

 

But not just any omnic.

 

 

 

It's an upgraded Tritelum Unit.

 

 

 

The third Omnic Crisis has begun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys. Can I just tell you how far we've come? Its been almost a year, and I can't properly explain to you how excited I am with this story. PLEASE tune in next week for the finale of Haunted! There will be an epilogue, and a sequel, so relax, don't worry, the content isn't just *ending*
> 
> As always, let me know what you think, and thank's so much for reading! 
> 
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	51. Them

Gabriel is almost petrified with fear, which he hasn't felt _seriously_ in what feels like years. He never expected to see one of these things again, let alone an upgraded one- let alone with Jack at his side. Luckily, the dropship wheels around just in time to light it up with a few rounds before moving off to drop off the others at their chosen locations. The unit falls, a burning heap of metal that adds even more smoke to the skies. Gabriel and Jack look at once another, nodding wordlessly. They needed to move, and fast. “We're headed to the core of the fight,” Jack says into his comm, breaking into a sprint, and Gabriel barely manages to keep up along side him, half ghosting his way along. Black plumes that smell a whole hell of a lot like oil and gasoline pour out of every building and out of manholes underground, giving away that not even the safe underground metro had been spared from the attacks. Up ahead, Jack saw Japanese officials squaring off against omnics, but these, he and Jack noticed right away, were not _quite_ like the ones they fought before. These omnics all looked drastically different from one another, as if they had come from anywhere, and everywhere in the world. The only thing that set them apart came in the form of salmon-red and violet pain that had been painted onto them, almost tribally, but with the perfect precision that only machines could offer. Clearly some kind of warpaint, some kind of marking to ally them to one another. They didn't seem to have even a second's hesitation about lighting up any omnics on the other side, either, of which there were many here in Tokyo.

As far as weaponry went, there _was_ no standard- not like back then. These omnics carried whatever they had been given, which was in some cases, flame throwers, pulse rifles, light pistols, regular, old-fashioned guns, where as others were equipped with blades that had been welded right onto their frames as they leapt into battle. And... What scared Gabriel the most was that, not only were there Tritelum units- _many_ of them, from what he could see down the length of the dirtied street- but there were _bastions,_ too. And these? These weren't like the bastions of the old days. In fact, none of these omnics were like those. Where as the omnics from decades earlier behaved like bees in a hive, these worked like an _army_. Each one of them had its own sense of self conscious- its own thoughts, it's own feelings. The idea of consciousness being forced into the body of ancient, or even brand new machines made specifically for war was beyond wicked. And yet, he couldn't help but get the very distinct feeling that there was something very _wrong_ with the way these omnics were made to think.

It reminded him of Talon, and the way he and Widowmaker had been manipulated to behave and think the way they did. Whoever was in charge of this army had clearly taken a few pages out of Talon's book. Jack was already lighting up anything in front of them, and soon, Gabriel joined him, a shotgun in either hand, finishing off anything that dared to get too close. Over the hail of gunfire and the roar of massive light weapons materializing I-beams out of nothing into buildings, Gabriel didn't even hear the first sniper shot.

The bullet whizzed only inches past his face, and as an instinct, he reeled back, becoming a cloud in seconds.

“Sniper!” Gabriel shouted, hand reaching out to grip Jack by the shoulder, jerking him backwards and into the cover of the corner of a building. “ _Stay out of sight. I'm going to go deal with them._ ” Reaper then tore away from the man, his sable fog racing across the street and pouring into the broken window of a lobby. The place had obviously once been an expensive sort of hotel, now reduces to almost nothing. He followed the sound of gunshots in concordance with the direction the bullet had come from, but before he reached any great height, the source had changed again. He was five stories up, and the shots were coming from higher still. Gabriel moved along, and however morbid it seemed, there were enough bodies around, _fresh enough_ to keep him fed... And feed he did, even going so far as to absorb more than the usual, stealing anything and everything he could to aid him in the battle. By the time he reached the fifteenth story, his skin was almost black, his eyes, a constant, glowing pair of red irises amidst an abyss of charcoal. Gabriel twisted through the cracks of a door sitting slightly ajar, and it was just then that he saw her fall.

Not fall, but leap.

Widowmaker abandoned the height of her perch in favor of getting away, knowing that _he_ was coming for her. Her grappling hook was out in a second and she latched onto a far building across the street, twisting around to stare back at the window she had just abandoned to see Reaper standing there at the edge of it, looking after her.

Without any sort of pause, she raised her rifle and took a shot, forcing him to vanish again before it struck him, though had he not, she'd have easily killed him. That should have prepared Gabriel for what he was facing, and yet somehow it didn't. As her grappling hook catapulted her upwards, her rifle was heard twice more, if barely, one shot cutting through his coat as he maneuvered to teleport across. A second later, he arrived right behind where she had landed, and her rifle spun around, aimed to strike him across the face, narrowly missing before she deftly pulled it back into her grasp and flipped the scope out of the way and started chasing after his shifting form with round after round of hot metal. Her features were calm, collected and unnervingly smooth. She almost didn't seem to recognize who he was beyond the target she was assigned to kill.

Gabriel reached out suddenly, a shotgun in hand, aiming at her head, but before he could pull the trigger, she had flipped backwards, planting her feet on his chest and throwing herself away from him, knocking him back.

 _Are we sure we want to do this?_ Reaper's voice rolled into Gabriel's mind, distracting him, and for the first time, it occurred to him that he cared for Widowmaker from a _different_ platform. That, despite being Reaper at the time, and despite Reaper being what he was, even he had developed some kind of kinship with her. _Reaper_ didn't want to kill her. _But look at her,_ Gabriel thought. _Look at what she's become. She doesn't even know who I am._ For a moment, rage filled Gabriel, and then pity. Moira had done this to Amelie... She had _erased_ him from her mind. And now? A machine was stared him in the face through her gilded eyes.

“Amelie.” He says suddenly, his voice rasping and dark. “ _Do you remember nothing?_ ”

The woman does not reply, raising her rifle once more and unleashing a flurry of fire into him, which he evades, but his ability to do that begins to wain, here on the rooftop of the building, the battle raging around them. There's no one here for him to feed from except Widow herself, and he's not sure if doing so is even _safe_. Would the drugs in her system affect him? It isn't an experiment he wants to try. _“Lacroix!”_ He shouts, and there is a moment where her brows furrow at him, if very narrowly. Something akin to anger comes into that intense stare of hers, and she raises the gun, and shoots again. As he used more and more of his energy to dodge her attacks, he began to tire, and eventually, the shotgun was raised again, and he started to fire. The time for hesitation ended, because he realized that if he did nothing to stop her, she would _not_ stop until she had killed him, or at least tried to. It was clear that there was something about her name that triggered her somewhat... Something that made her fight harder than before, as if the sound of the name elicited some kind of negative response from her very core. Then, finally, she clipped him, which forced a howl of rage out of the wraith as he limped to the side, his right shin pooling fuming black blood around the outside of his boot, leaving sticky footprints in his wake as he wheeled back on her. His guns fired again, and Widowmaker gasped and flew backwards, clutching her side and struggling to find her footing. _If anyone should kill her, if anyone should put her down, it should be me, the man who abandoned her to this fate._

Gabriel lifted the gun, aimed again for her head, but this time she had no escape, no time to flee.

 

_But where would we be, Gabriel, if Jack had pulled the trigger on you?_

 

Hadn't Jack more or less said he felt exactly the same way once upon a time? Was Gabriel as _gone_ as this? Was he this mindless, murdering machine with no memories? Jack could have killed him, but he didn't. She stared at him, her eyes vicious and animalistic, her own gun abandoned off to the side, dropped when she had fallen backwards.

“ _What are you waiting for, you fool!?_ ” Widowmaker suddenly barked at him. “ _Traitor!_ ”

 

But Gabriel couldn't take the shot.

 

There was pain in her eyes, along side rage and confusion. She doesn't want him to see it, but he can, and she's waiting for the finishing blow that will end it all. Reaper takes half a step forward, as if willing himself to take the killing blow. He'd killed hundreds, thousands before. One more shouldn't be so difficult, and yet it was...

Because he had _been_ there... Where she was now. She was staring at him, waiting for the end, as if pleading that he take the shot and end whatever confusion she had going on. Some kind of _answer_. The end to her story.

 

He open fired, finally.

Widowmaker yelped and flinched, but when the black and red miasma from the shot cleared and she realized she was still breathing, she looked up at him, shocked and even more confused than before. Reaper had missed.

 

When he open fired again, she knew she was pressing her luck to linger. A symphony of loud blasts echoed through the air between them, but his shots only _looked_ like they were well aimed. In truth, he had lowered them to just below her feet, prompting her to get up, to run and flee for her life, and despite how badly she bled, she managed to get up and run, and Gabriel sped after her. But, the Widow looked back at him as she fled and abruptly stopped at the edge of the roof, and she smiled- and he was fairly sure that was the first time he had _ever_ seen her smile. It was a sick sort of smile, and without a doubt that there was something terrible about it. It stopped him in his tracks.

 

“ _Pain... Without love,_ ” She breathed into the air between them, still bleeding from her side. “I... _can't_ get enough...” A sing-song tone punctuated with agony.

 

Her voice was almost breathless. Weak, broken... Hurt. His eyes widened with sudden shock, hands tightening on the guns in either hand, claws curling against the metal as tightly as they could manage. Though the battle raged around them, he faced off against her as though they were the only two here. Her eyes said more than her lips ever needed to. _Look at yourself. Look what you've let yourself become._ She laughed at him then, before dropping abruptly off the side of the roof and and grappling away, leaving a trail of red, almost blue blood in her wake, until she was too far out of his reach for him to chase after.

 

Almost at once, Gabriel roared in rage, throwing his guns to the side as he let her go in a moment of weakness and confusion. He _should_ have taken the shot! Amelie and he were not the same person! How did she know that song? _How could she, if her memories were allegedly gone?_ But she had done it as some kind of taunt- some kind of _tease_ to stop him from taking the fatal blow! She practically asked him to do it when he had the chance to... But she had seen humanity in him, and used it to her advantage. Though it was true that most people wouldn't realize that he had let her go, keener eyes within Overwatch would know better. Jack would know better, as would Ana, likely. They both knew him far too well to believe he'd ever miss such an easy shot like that.

 

“ _Agents! Be alert! Our sources are showing a large mass of omnics amassing in the center of the city. We have reason to believe they're planning something there. We have to find out what and we have to stop them! Med units are flying in to pick up wounded, but all free and able agents should make their way towards the mass!_ ” Winston's voice is a harsh, sudden reminder of what Gabriel's suppose to be doing here, and now that Widowmaker is far out of sight, he had more important things to tend to.

“ _Copy, Commander. I'm waiting for Reyes-_ ” Jack's voice sounds strained, and vaguely worried.

“ _I'm here, Jack,_ ” Gabriel replies quickly so as to reassure the man. Gabriel walked back to the side of the building and jumps off the side, dispersing into a pitch vapor seconds before he hits the ground, and racing towards where he left Jack last. The man is in more or less the same place, if slightly further down, bathed in sweat, with a few more bruises and cuts than he had before, a biotic field on the floor doing work on him, and Reyes reforms into the ring of glowing light feeling immediate relief as it goes to work on him.

Jack, spotting the injury on Gabe's leg looks up through his visor, immediately concerned.

“It's fine, Jack,” Reaper rasps, somewhat out of breath- he needs to feed, and soon. The bodies here should be more than enough, and he has no doubt that he'll be fully healed by the time they reach where they're going. “Just a bullet.”

“Did you get them?”

“What?”

“... The sniper, Gabe, did you-”

“ _Oh..._ Right. Let's say they're no longer a problem for us,” he replies cryptically, and despite that Jack wanted a straight answer, he knows better than to pry here, and now.

“We have to move. Are you going to be alright?”

“Just get me closer to some of those downed buildings... I'll find what I need there.” As he says this, the last of the biotic field drains itself and the canister turns dark and useless. Though Gabe can still feel the pain of the wound, he knows that the bleeding has stopped, which is something of a plus.

Jack doesn't need to ask to know what that means... Gabriel has to feed, and there are plenty of fallen soldiers who could fit the bill, though he'd certainly make a point to steal from _Talon's_ lost before any of the brave authorities who had showed up here to protect their city. Multiple times, Jack and Gabe find themselves halting in their steps to fight off either party, Talon or... _Or these new omnics,_ on their way to the city center. From here, they can already hear the sound of heavy weaponry belonging to that of Zarya, and as they draw closer, the ground thuds with the tremendous weight of Reinhardt's hammer striking the asphalt as the two heavyweights hold each other's back. Angela is here, aiding everyone around her as much as she's able, her tactical suit on full display as she glides through the air, staff in hand. Jaelen and McCree fight off to one side, easily pinging enemies through the head almost as if it's a game they're playing against each other. Ana is crouched on an overturned bus nearby, taking shots at distant targets, and occasionally pelting distant allies with a little healing. Genji and Winston are deep into the fray somewhere ahead, and occasionally, the frantic blue lights of Tracer blink into and out of the gunfire, through the smoke. Even Hana and Lucio fight along side the lot, and somewhere not far away, a short but intimidating scientist is freezing someone to death- which is somehow one of the more morbid things going on in this fight than _most_ things. By the small pile of bodies around her with icicles through their heads, Gabe had to guess she was doing just fine. Was she giggling? ...No. Surely not.

Overhead, a loud boom lights up the sky as a Talon airship pummels brilliant, molten lead into a government airship, which suddenly starts to sway to the side before crashing in a ball of heat that rolls through the company. Ahead of them, Winston has managed to clear a path if barely, and they begin to advance. As Jack reloads, Reaper presses his back against his, defending their rear where a group of omnics have started to chase after them almost like rabid animals.

“Winston!” Tracer's voice is vaguely panicked. “Commander!”

“What is it, Tracer!?” The Gorilla barks, crushing the head of an omnic as it launches itself at him.

“Sir! Up ahead! The omnics... They're... They're climbing- sort of... Building a fortress!”

“What do you mean!?”

“Let me see,” Ana says almost calmly, now beside Jack and Gabriel, putting a Talon agent off to her right asleep, seconds before the omnic swarm crushes over him, tearing him apart. She rushes ahead and climbs up onto a slanted piece of debris with enough agility to impress anyone given her age. Her rifle is pulled up suddenly, and she stares down the scope, before lifting her eyes. “They're... They're making a dome! They're protecting something-”

“ _A bomb,_ ” Reaper says suddenly without a question in his mind.

“We're not going to be able to get through that!” Jack says, as the first line of defense comes into view. It's a row of bastions, and behind them, not four, but _eight_ Tritelum units have formed a circle around what appears to be a cave-in into the subway systems below the city.

“ _You_ can't,” Gabriel says, suddenly looking over at Jack, and the Soldier stares back at him through his visor. He already knows what Gabe is proposing, but he hates it.

“Don't be stupid, Reyes! Going in there is suicide to any one of us!”

“Not to _all_ of us.”

Everyone else has gone quiet, though they still defend and fight, pushing forward steadily, everyone's listening to the proposed idea.

“You can't _feed_ in there! You'll die! What will you even do once you get in there!?”

“I'll diffuse the bomb-”

Jack immediately scoffs. “ _Do you even know how to do that?_ ”

“Goddamnit Jack, I'll figure something out.”

“That doesn't sound like you,” a voice suddenly says from nearby. Sombra appears out from her invisibility as she approaches. “You'll need a way in, and some help. At least let me give you something- a mobile EMP. It should do the trick.” The hacker holds out the device, and without a second thought, he snatches it, and Jack stares at them both, fury behind his mask. Looking away, the Soldier fires a few more rounds. Sombra hesitates only a second before offering Gabriel a temporary invisibility, nodding at him. Then, without a moment's more hesitation, Gabriel disperses, now fully healed by all the bodies he's instinctively fed off of on his way here.

“Lets try to distract them- Give Reaper as much time as possible-”

 

Winston's words are cut off as a horrendous screech suddenly sounds out of one of the streets to the side of them. A flash of blue light, and suddenly, another beam of materialized metal comes crashing through a building, which begins to collapse. Through the smoke, however, something rises up over the rubble, walking, almost casually.

The omnic looks almost nothing like what he did when Gabriel first saw the interrogation video. The chassis is torn, tattered, and painted various shades of red and purple, just like the rest of the omnics here. But, his over all frame and ports remain the same, giving Jinx away. Gabriel only pauses a second into his sprint to see their new foe before rushing on again, with no time to waste. The eyes however... Those were red, just like almost all of the omnics here, which Torb had at some point informed them meant hostility, or a switch in control. Sombra had quickly deduced that these omnics had been hacked... But by who? Who were they working for, and why? And, why was Jinx apparently leading a small, but formidable army of omnics behind him?

“ _Christ, there he is,_ ” Jesse murmurs under his breath.

Gabe continued to charge along, only reforming when it was safe to give himself a chance to breathe, before taking off again. Eventually, he found a moderately undisturbed manhole, and used it to make his way down into the underground, which surrounded him almost immediately in complete darkness. But, the wraith felt his way along, moving carefully so as not to be surprised by any one or any _thing_ that might be down here. He knew that the sinkhole they had spotted wasn't far from here. Overhead, the sounds of the battle are dulled into muffled booms, but he can feel the very strikes rumbling through the walls and the ground, and more than a couple times he wondered if the tunnels he was in were even strong enough for him to be safe in.

The closer he got to the sinkhole, the more he began to think they weren't.

Over the comms, he could hear random calls outs, and the distant screech of even more light weaponry. Somehow, he doubted he'd ever quite get the sound out of his ears. Nor would he the sound of Widowmaker's laugher, or his song, on her lips. That was a puzzle that he was sure to be confused by for ages, he knew, if he dwelled on it. Now however was _not_ the time. Especially now, as the scraping sound of something up ahead struck his ears. In the darkness, he couldn't see it yet, and in a way, he prayed it couldn't see him through the invisibility that was miraculously still functioning. It plucked its way along the stone with dagger-like legs, and eventually its eyes broke into Gabe's line of sight. Instinctively, he flattered himself against the side of the tunnel, and the omnic scrapped along further still. The closer it got, the brighter its red eyes seemed, and they lit up the purple and red paintings that had been brushed onto its head and back. This thing hardly seemed alive anymore- in fact, in many respects, it looked skeletal, like a cross between a crab and a human, with one of the eight legs entirely missing. This, he realized, was a recycled bot. Whether or not it was actually sentient like many omnics nowadays, Gabe had no idea- but it didn't _seem_ to be.

It began to amble past him- who knew where, and Gabe sucked in a deep breath of relief as it wandered further, and he sunk down off the wall.

Then, there was a small crack of a sound, like the fizzling of a lightbulb burning out.

 

Suddenly he was visible.

 

And suddenly, little sensors all around the outside of the bot started flickering, and the thing uttered a small sound not unlike a grunt of uncertainty. It twisted, turning around, until all ten of its eyes- two on it's face, and the rest scattered over its body- primed upon him. _Crap!_ Gabriel twisted back into smoke as the thing open fired on him via two small guns similar to SMG's that erupted straight out from where the ribcage would have been. It was crawling forward too, loudly, and Gabe was forced to pull his weapons. Any chance at surprise was lost now, as he had no doubt that this thing was _already_ alerting the others down here to his presence, and whether he killed it or not, they would be on their way. So, he fired off as many rounds as it took to make the thing stop moving, which proved somewhat difficult, as even after he had obliterated its head, it continued to move and come after him, as though it was a chimera of two different omnics- maybe three? Even without several of its arms, it continued on... It was the same kind of drive that omnics from his past had exhibited, with the corrupted mannerisms of living, sentient omnics that the world now lived with.

 

Finally, it went down, but Gabriel could already hear others coming for him from up ahead. He'd have no choice but to fight them, he knew.

 

“ _Agents, be alert. I'm showing signs of activity within the pit. A charge of some kind. They might be preparing to blow it. We need to get everyone out that we can-_ ” Athena, just when Gabriel thought he'd never hear the AI's voice again.

“ _Commander, what are you orders?_ ” Ana's voice rings clearly in Gabe's ears as they discuss what to do, and he can hear them struggling, even still, to get anywhere up above. After a pause, the gorilla responds

“ _Reyes, where are you, currently?_ ”

“Thirty seconds from the sinkhole.”

“ _Wait. What are they doing?_ ” Jay's voice is unmistakable. Overhead, Gabriel can hear the sudden rumble of movement, and up ahead, the omnics coming his way erupt into the corridor. In shock, Reaper reels back, weapons raised, and though many of the omnics rushing towards him see him, they do not stop, or slow, and do nothing to attack him. Even clouding himself as they approach, and many of them stare at him as they pass, saying nothing, and doing nothing to stop him. Some of them laugh, but it's not a sound that carries any weight with Gabriel, who can't help but stare towards the direction they're running from. _Running_ from...

“ _They're... They're retreating!_ ” He hears Angela gasp.

“ _No..._ ” Jack's voice is obviously full of concern. “ _They're running. Reyes! GET OUT OF THERE!_ ” The man screams, and just as soon as he does, the sinkhole comes into view. Gabriel can't see much by the almost blindingly bright light that radiates outward from the central core, but he makes out something roughly the size of a man, but spherical, and made almost entirely of metal. Small cracks in the surface expose that light. The ball itself looks like it's been made of crushed omnics, so tightly packed that it clearly has some kind of magnetic aspect to it that reminds Gabriel grimly of the crushing weight of some kind of gravity.

 

~

 

“Jack. Can I ask you something?”

“You were going to ask me something anyway, you bastard.” The blonde smirks as he teases Gabriel, his lips sliding back down Gabe's chest. The grass bends easily beneath them, and Gabriel rests his back against a tree while sipping from some kind of local beer- not his favorite, but days like this were a rare thing that he and Jack so seldom got to have. There are hickeys all over the man's chest, and Jack has no interest in stopping any time soon. There's a familiar pinch of pain whenever he bites and begins to suck, but Gabe doesn't stop him, instead reaching up to pull his beanie down over his eyes, smirk still on his lips, hiding his eyes from the afternoon sun as it breaks down through the familiar pine trees.

“What would you have done if we didn't do this?”

“I'd have done it indoors-”

“No- that's not what I-” Gabriel laughs with the shortness of Jack's response, and smirks brightly down at him.

“Whatever you would have done, Gabe.” And seconds later, he feels those lips trail their way back up his chest to his neck, where he bites before pressing a deeper, far more intimate kiss onto Gabe's lips. The next thing he knows, Jack has reached up and tugged the beanie off his his head and tossed it aside, running his fingers instead over the stubble as they kiss.

“Whatever I would have done?” The man asks finally, raising a brow at him playfully. “What if I decided to just go home and be gay somewhere else.”

“You're not gay, for one, but... I somehow doubt that would have happened.”

“ _Oh really_?”

“I'd say,” Jack replies a little cockily, and Gabe cant help but to admit, the smile looks good on those perfect, blond, blue eyed features of his. “I had you wrapped around my little finger.”

“ _What?_ Like hell you did,” he snorts, rolling his eyes, and he looks away, laughing.

“You don't think so? Come on, Reyes. It didn't take a whole hell of a lot- all I had to do was muster up the strength to kiss you.”

“You said it was stupid at the time.”

“Yeah and, I mean, maybe it was, you know? It was raining. We could have slipped. Fallen. _Died_. Or worse, _got caught._ ” The two laugh together for another long moment before Jack slides one of his legs over Gabe's, effectively straddling him as he moves on top, looking down at the standing Officer of Overwatch. “But if I hadn't done that... I don't know. I guess I would have died out there in those fights. I didn't have a whole lot to live for before you, Gabriel... My grand's were gone. Buried. No family outside of them. No siblings- aunts, uncles... Nothing. My country was the only thing I had until I met you. So I decided that either I'd die defending my country, or I'd live through it to find something worth keeping... Found you in the process. I guess I always knew it was wrong. I knew somehow, it might distract me. Might get me killed some day, so for a while I tried _not_ to do it... To just not feel anything... But I couldn't. The way you looked at me... Spoke to me... Touched me. The way you made me feel, Gabriel. You set me on fire.”

Gabriel's smile had turned softer and more genuine, and he blushed with Jack's words, reaching up finally to tug the man down to him so that their foreheads touched.

“ _You poetic brat. You're forgetting something, you know?_ ”

“Oh? And what's that?” Jack whispers against his lips.

 

“ _This might still get you killed._ ”

 

“ _Then... I guess it was a stupid kiss, wasn't it?_ ”

 

“ _Remind me._ ”

 

Then they kissed again, this time more aggressively, until Gabe's arms came around Jack's torso and he suddenly moved, rolling onto his knees and guiding Jack onto his back in the grass. Easily, he works Jack's legs a little further apart and grinds down between them, chuckling into the man as they deepen their romance. The sun feels warm on Gabriel's back, but not nearly as hot as Jack's skin pressed up against his.

 

“ _I love you Jackie. Don't you ever forget that._ ”

 

Jack blushes, hard, and presses another kiss into the man.

“ _I love you too, Gabe._ ”

 

~

 

That was years ago. Gabriel had loved Jack so thoroughly then that the idea of ever leaving him behind, betraying him or letting him die was so, so far out of reach that he couldn't have imagined it would ever come to pass. He couldn't have imagined Moira walking into their lives, and stealing _Gabriel_ away, and leaving him with nothing but _Reaper_ instead. The fall of Overwatch was a grander tragedy in the grand scheme of terrible happenings, one after the other, starting with the devastation of their love for one another. Gabriel had been twisted and manipulated into this wicked creature, and later, people would say, _oh, well he was jealous of Jack's legacy. Maybe he was racist or, he felt like he deserved it more. Now, he's just a monster with nothing but revenge._

And everyone was wrong, the entire time. No one _really_ knew how they were with each other. Sure, the world had known vaguely about their romance back then, and all of the other core members had been well aware, but even they didn't _quite_ understand what Jack did for Gabriel. Gabriel was freed of his burdens, of his rage _because_ of Jack...

All Moira did was give them back.

 

And now here they were, face to face with a bomb that was going to collapse half the city and destroy hundreds of thousands of lives. Already, there was catastrophe beyond a true scope that anyone could properly measure- it would take them years to clean up the debris and then rebuild. An EMP wasn't going to be enough to stop the bomb, that much he knew just by looking at it.

Who, besides the omnics now holding the keys to the bomb he was staring at, was responsible for this calamity? _Who was it that started this hailstorm of fire?_ Who, Gabriel wonders as his rage begins to surmount, was responsible for _all_ of this?

 

Talon.

 

Was Jack going to die, because this time Gabriel couldn't get him to safety? Was today the last day that Ana might speak to her daughter, or Reinhardt protect his team? Was _today_ the last day that their guardian angel would come and keep them alive? Would all their younger recruits have their lives cut short, and would Jesse find peace from his heartache in the most corrupted of ways? Would Talon win in the aftermath of this oncoming war, all because Gabriel had left the door open to Moira back in Blackwatch?

 

_Or was he going to finally clean up his mess?_

 

Reaper stalked forward suddenly, his darkness clouding the brightness before him as the light threatened to burn through the abyss he had become. Mustering as much strength as he could manage, his arms, all four of them, latched onto the bomb, gritting his teeth and growling with exertion as his claws dug in. This wasn't going to be easy, and he didn't know if it would work, but he had to try.

 

Talon, who had already taken note of the way the omnics were suddenly fleeing, had begun to retreat as well, not willing to risk their ships- _or perhaps who was on them-_ to whatever hell this bomb was bringing. His eyes closed, knowing that this may very well kill him.

 

_But nothing's killed me yet._

 

_Is today going to be the last day I tell Jack I love him?_

 

“ _No._ ” Reaper replies firmly to himself, and as his eyes come open, his entire form erupts into a void of sheer, lightless nothingness, and he sinks into the ground.

 

He takes the bomb with him.

 

 

Little could have prepared Moira and Akande for what happened then, as first darkness, then terrible, blinding light erupts onto the ship that they're in, still speeding away from the city as fast as the battleship was able.

 

 

 

 

“You ̛b͡r҉o҉u̡g͢h̵t t̷h͘i̵s . . . u̩̰͙̹̪͈ͤͣp̆ͣ҉͏̨͇͚͔͍̼̲ő̵͎͈̘̣̖͙̎ͪͅn̛ͫ̏ͦͨ̐҉͕̳̬̼̝ Y̴̢̡̳̙̤̺̭̞̭͔̠̜͙̺͍̤̻͉͎̞͋͊̎̉ͮͮ́̏̐ͦ͗ͧ̊̃͆͐͝O̡̮͚̩̹̠ͯ̄ͥ̒̆͐͒̎̌̎ͨ̂͠͞U̵̧̨̩̩̙̜̝͔̤̥̾͋ͪ̋̀͌̑̉ͭ̽̾R͇̭͔̦̬͈͈̞̭͉͖͔̹̙͖͍̘͕ͥ͐ͨ͐̀̈͂͗̆̍̈̽̀͢͠Ṣ̶̢̡̠̜̖̩͍͚̹̼̱̻̙̠̓ͣ̔̐ͣ̌̄̿̿̓̀ͅͅE̢͌̌̌̑̑͒͆̿̚͡͏͍̳̥͙͙͚̦̬̦̣͚LV͂̀̓̔̈́ͪ͂Eͣͪ̐̎̉̆̂͗̒̚Sͦ̑̃̆ͫ͛ͬ!̧̜̼̤̗̫͐͛́̄͛̂̌̅ͬ͛̓͑̐ͯ̓͑ͮͮ̔͟”

 

 

 

The speech is so garbled, so hideously wicked and venomous that even Akande feels the frigid touch of fear as it pierces like a knife into his form. Moira, her face stricken with shock and realization, recoils backwards against the far wall of the ship. They're out of time, all three of them, standing there facing one another down, a bomb between them. Gabriel knows he doesn't have enough energy to teleport away, but if nothing else, maybe he can put these two down before he goes.

 

Reaper begins to laugh. It's a malevolent sort of thing, the kind he only could have gotten at the sheer realization of revenge. The bomb itself emits a high pitched screech, not unlike the light weapons on the ground, and instinctively, Gabriel wraiths, turning away and pressing himself against the far wall of the cabin. He can hear Moira's scream as the bomb tears open one side of the ship as it begins to collapse inward, and without waiting to see the result, Reaper escapes through the gap, racing towards earth as a thin line of smoke.

 

Overhead, the ship explodes, luckily blocking most of the explosion from getting any further than its confines, in so doing, more or less _vaporizing_ the ship, causing a small rain of iron and metal shards no larger than peas to go flying through the atmosphere.

 

 

When the explosion hits, everything goes dark for Gabriel. His body, in its unconscious state, coalesces out of instinct, and when he finally hits the ground, he does not move again.

 

 

Jack screams so loudly that he loses his voice, and he sobs, breaking away from anyone who might try to stop him as he races forward, hurdling past obstacles and over fallen concrete to try and reach the dark body he saw falling from the sky.

 

When he finds Gabriel, he skids to a stop, coming to his knees beside the body, broken in so many places that Jack is somehow relieved that everything's still attached. Without thinking, he throws down two biotic fields surrounding the body as he sobs. “ _No. No no no no, no, Gabriel. You can't do this- you fool! Why would you do this! GABRIEL!_ ” He screams, and Reinhardt, who had charged after him, catches up, panting, before suddenly sinking to his knees. What he sees is enough to break anyone's heart- Jack, holding Gabe's upper torso in his lap, blood everywhere, and perhaps _most_ horrifying of it all is the fact that for once, Gabriel's smoke is gone. “ _Why would you do this... How could you do this... Gabriel..._ ” The Soldier carefully reaches under the hood and slowly removes the mask. Beneath it, Gabriel is pale, thin, sickly looking, every scar he's ever had showing up on his skin. His eyes are dark.

“ _Morrison-_ ” Reinhardt says softly from somewhere behind him.

“ _No, no. Don't. Just, just give him a minute. Please..._ ”

 

The rest of the cast have caught up at this point, and Jesse stares, reaching up slowly to remove his hat. Jaelen can't help herself as she curls into the cowboy in tears. Everyone else, shell-shocked, finds themselves paralyzed on the spot, unable to move.

 

“ _Why would you do this for them, Gabriel!?_ ” Jack whispers, rocking slightly into the broken body as memories of their times together pass through his head. The first day they met. The first _stupid_ kiss. The times they saved each other's lives. The nights they spent alone in the first days of Overwatch. The forest... The hero _behind_ the monster's eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

“ _I didn't do it for them, Jackie._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP... This is it, guys. The last chapter. Next week will be the epilogue! I can't begin to thank you guys for reading this- this has been an amazing project for me and has given me a TON of enjoyment. Your guys endless feedback and praise helped me get through this. Thank you so much! I hope you guys enjoyed the story!
> 
> The sequel will be coming out this summer, after I've had time to properly assess things and have a break. Thanks so much, and join our public, mature server to updates and to meet other R76 fans!  
> https://discord.gg/uetujrT


	52. Epilogue

Jack's heart remembers how to beat again, and suddenly he gasps, choking as he steadies the man in his arms. For a moment, he thinks he imagined the words that trembled off of Gabriel's broken, bleeding lips. “He's alive! HE'S ALIVE! Ana!” The Soldier's voice is cracked with raw emotion as he sobs for help.

Immediately, Ana and Angela rush forward, and Jesse pulls away from Jaelen to step marginally closer. Gabriel can hear the sound of Jesse's spurs, barely, dully aware of a pain in both ears, mouth and chest- everywhere. It's excruciating, and within moments, he's unconscious again, taken by the sheer amount of agony he's in.

 

When Gabriel awakens again, he's laying in a bed- not a famliar one, but not one he minds, and definitely not the one in his room at the main Overwatch base in Italy. There's a window in this room that looks out over the ocean, sunlight that beams in through a skylight over where he's laying, lighting up and warming his frame, draped in white sheets up to his chest which has a simple, white T-shirt over it. There's an end table on either side of him with lamps on each, a few books and flowers in vases, everywhere. It feels like a deathbed, but as his eyes focus, they take in what is clearly a recovery room. White walls, blue accents, tropical plants...

And the Fijian coast just over the side of the grass-covered cliffs. White stone walkways, and lights overhead that match the time of day, _making the lamps on either end table somewhat useless_ , he thinks.. _Intensive Care Recovery Wing_ is printed over the doorway at the end of the hall within which his bed rests. There are a lot of beds around him, but all of them are empty...

Except for the one right next to him, where a seriously exhausted Jack Morrison snores with his hands draped over a still-open book. There are needles in Gabe's arms, and pads hooked up to wires that run up under the soft clothing he wears, attached to his chest and head, monitoring him. Absently, he looks down at himself, noticing something _strange._ For the first time in a long time...

There's no smoke. No darkness...

_No Reaper._

 

“ _Well I'll be damned,_ ” The cowboy's southern accent never sounded so good before now, and Gabe feels like he's hearing it for the first time as he lifts his eyes. “And here we thought your heart had thumped its last!” Spurs click their way down the room, headed towards his bed, which rouses Jack. When those blue eyes open and they lock on Gabe's for the first time, he surges forward off the bed into the folding chair beside Gabe's bed, which Gabe hadn't even noticed until just now. Jack's hands reach out to try and grasp his own, and as soon as they touch, Gabe is reminded of the man's intense warmth, and his smile widens immediately.

“My heart stopping has never killed me before,” Gabe replies, doing his best to sound smooth, but his voice dry and hoarse. Jesse laughs gently and nods, reaching down to give Gabe's shoulder a gentle squeeze before he strides away, practically beaming.

“I'll let the nurses know. Figure you two gents got a lot of catching up to do.”

“ _Gabe_ ,” Jack stammers as soon as they're alone again, leaning forward and pressing a relieved kiss to the wraith's lips. He's doing it with a feverishness that suggests he's terrified that Gabe might fall back asleep any minute now... Or that he was scared Gabe might not wake up at all.

“Jackie...”

“You... You're awake.”

“Obviously. Tell me what happened? How long was I out? What's-”

“Take a drink... It'll help,” The Soldier says, reaching down for a glass of water on the end table and bringing it up to Gabe's lips- his hands tremble slightly as he does. The wraith feels weak- weaker now than he's _ever_ been, and yet, Jack was shakier. Gabriel reassures him, grasping his palm with a hand just after he takes the glass. Slowly, the shaking stops as Jack feels the strength behind his grip and relaxes a little. Only then does the man continue.

“I'm not... myself, am I?” He asks, looking at the lack of smoke. Jack looks down over him, then back to his face, mostly healed, but the absence of the Reaper's usual appearance is obvious.

“... You are. You just... Angela had to take some drastic measures to keep you alive, Gabriel... Your nanites did everything they could to heal you as much as they were able. There was only so much they could do. You'll be yourself, eventually, but it will take time. Angela has introduced some new nanites into your body to help heal you in the meantime. She says it means that you can eat and drink again- and that it will actually _help_ now... It'll help at least until your own natural nanites rebuild themselves... Said it could take anywhere from weeks to months. She says she's discovered the secret to your nanites... They have the ability to evolve somehow... Thinks that's why you're able to at least _partially_ feed from live targets now, as opposed to just... Dead ones. Wants you to keep trying that- to keep practicing it... But not yet. Not for a while at least. You have a lot of healing to do.”

“What... _exactly_ happened at the blast, Jack?” There's a small smirk that lights up on Jack's face as he remembers the event, however bleakly it had happened, and he chuckles.

“ Did what you do best, Gabe...You teleported in. Blew their ship to kingdom come, along with two other ships. You fell... Broke fourty-percent of the bones in your body, punctured your lung three times, broke both your legs, your arm, hand, cracked your spine... There isn't a whole hell of a lot that you _didn't_ break. But.. You ended the battle.”

“ _Christ..._ So... What's the prognosis then? How long have I been here?”

“Well... I guess the prognosis is good, considering what you went through. She thinks you'll make a full recovery, but it could take months... You've been here for three weeks. We didn't even know if you were going to wake up... I guess we hoped-”

“ _And the mission?_ ”

“The miss- oh... _Right. The mission_. Well, after the blast, our forces along with the authorities were able to clean up the scattered Talon operatives who had no evac. Sombra was able to recover the EMP she gave you, and used it to disable Jinx. With him more or less crippled, we were able to detain him and put down or chase off everyone who was with him. She has since freed him of the control that was over him- a chip that had been implanted into his core, effectively enslaving him to a cause. Since his release, he's been feeding us valuable intel about our new enemy.”

“And who's that?” Gabriel asked, finally taking a sip from the drink offered to him.

“They don't really have a name, yet... At least, not a name that anyone who speaks any human language can pronounce... But we know that they operate a lot like a hive, and refer all authority to someone that they call _The Queen_... When we checked that out, all we came up with was a powerful junker-lord... Definitely not the same person Jinx was talking about. So whoever this new person is, they're new, unattached, and relying on how little we know of them to keep themselves safe. We're scraping through every ounce of intel that we have... Nothing solid yet. Since the attack however, they've been quiet... No new attacks. We guess that they're reassessing their approach... Still not quite clear on the motivation, but the intention is simple... End humans.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“That's what we're not quite sure of. My guess is that it's the standard rule-by-conquering thing... Some omnic has got it in their head that humans are a flawed species needlessly taking up resources and needs to be put down. Sounds like one of your old, terrible movies, Gabe.”

“ _Hey, some of those movies were good._ ” He pauses then, sipping again, before sighing and staring out towards the rolling horizon. “ _And Moira? Akande?_ ”

“... Well...”

Gabe's head snaps towards Jack, and the Soldier looks down.

“Look. We never found any bodies, but then, that's not really a surprise- the bomb practically turned the ship to dust. We haven't seen or heard anything about either one of them, and Talon's been inactive as far as we can tell... We're calling it a success, for now, but we're being careful. We know that even if those two are dead, there are still more people in Talon who are eager to take up the reins and pick up where they left off. You... You saved two hundred thousand people, Gabriel... Maybe more. There were people hiding below ground in bunkers, people on evacuation ships, and vehicles... Not to mention all the soldiers on the ground, and all of Overwatch...”

“And what about the UN? About Overwatch and... and you and me?”

“The media covered the entire thing, Gabriel. The UN can't deny that you saved thousands of people that day, and that if Overwatch hadn't arrived, with you, we would have lost that battle, and half a million people would be dead, if not more. The UN is being reassessed. We're told that new heads are being put in chairs. Overwatch, as far as the UN is concerned, is free to operate as it used to. They will still have to work within the laws and cooperate with governments, but they're no longer being forced to detail every mission. The cameras at the base are all gone, finally.” Jack pauses then, looking back towards the waves.

“...And us?” Gabe adds, prying further.

“... Sombra's going to talk to you about that later today. I don't know the specifics, but once she goes over it with you, we'll be talking about it publicly within the organization, and then an official press release. The most important thing for you to know is that whatever happens to you, I go with you. If they get rid of you, they lose me, too. I don't care anymore, Gabriel. I don't want to ever risk losing you again... But I need you to promise me something.”

“...And what's that?”

“Promise me that you won't play _hero_ ever again,” Jack begs almost playfully, before leaning in and kissing him once more. Gabriel laughs softly.

“I'll _try,_ Jack. No promises.”

Jack makes a small, disappointed noise before slowly moving to stand, going to get them something to eat. “You better be awake when I get back, Gabe. I'll be pissed if you aren't.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Jack. Not anymore.” Then, Jack smiles and continues through the exit doors.

 

While he's gone, Sombra arrives as expected.

“Well look at you,” She muses as she comes to sit on his bedside, placing a small purple flower into the drinking glass beside him. “I knew you were good for something,” she teases.

“Olivia, that's not a vase-”

“ _Guess it is now, isn't it?_ Anyway, listen _hombre._ I know you must have a terribly eventful itinerary, but I'm going to make this short and sweet. Tell you what you need to know, and be on my way. I've got work to do. The deal is this: the UN has decided to let you off- Hey- _no_.” She says to his sudden, elated expression, “Don't get too excited, alright? There's still restrictions. Rules. Your sentence is being revoked because we were _finally_ able to prove your innocence to them- and it _somehow_ leaked publicly, so they can't even _try_ to say it didn't happen. From the intel you gathered for us, we found recordings of the experiments that were done on you- by Moira. We were able to prove that you were not going into those experiments willingly- she _told_ you that she was helping you with nightmares and episodes- helping you with issues lingering from the Program years before. She didn't tell you that she was injecting you with mind-washing serums and rage-monster substances.-”

“Are those the _technical_ terms, Olivia?”

“ _Of course, Gabriel_. Anyway. We were able to trace back some of her research to someone from your past- Ilyana Nasir, who we discovered, was one of the doctors working on you during SEP. It seemed that she was onto something that Moira was thoroughly impressed by- but of course it was, _hah, seriously illegal_ , so the SEP kicked her out- at least for a while. They eventually were forced to bring her back because she alone was the only one able to produce the effects they found on you. She was able to continue her work on you, landing you where you were at the end of the program. There's more to that, but for now, the only important detail is that Moira seemed heavily inspired by her, and was obsessed with trying to continue her work and expand upon it... Which she could only do with you. Anyway, we found proof of Talon infiltrating Overwatch and using subliminal messaging the skew your way of thinking just enough that it would work with what Moira was doing to you. Then, during the explosion at the Swiss HQ, you died, and your nanites kept you alive, just barely. When Angela tried to resurrect you, your nanites evolved and took part of her strengths with it, stealing and subverting the healing nanites she injected you with, though it was delayed and took time. That's _why_ you can heal yourself so well... Additionally it seemed to throw all of your existing abilities into overdrive, which was why you suddenly had... Uh, _yanno, extra arms and stuff_.” She had begun to casually play a game on her phone, which as usual, mildly annoyed Gabriel. “See, after you exploded the base, Moira expected you to join her on the ship. When you didn't, Talon concluded that you were a failed experiment. The last thing they expected was for Reaper to show up on their front doorstep. It seemed that was something of a failsafe that Moira had instilled into you. She had been taking Reaper there for years-”

“Taking him- what? What do you mean?”

“...In your sleep, Gabriel... Moira went with you. She showed you how to do all the things that you became. So, when you died, and Reaper took over, naturally, he went back to her- and _she_ went back to Talon. Needless to say, the UN is still on the hunt for her, though all current assessments are that she died in the blast. Any of her personal assets have been taken, including her station in Oasis, which is forfeit considering she's... Well, Six feet under. Ogundimu, though?” She sighed some, shaking her head and letting the holo-screen on her phone shut off as she slid it away. “I don't know how he could have survived, but no one has actually found the Doomfist, yet... So either it's lost somewhere, and some twelve year old is going to end up digging it out of the dirt, or pieces of it, or... He took it with him, if he did somehow manage to escape. Our searches for them haven't gotten us anywhere, so we're being cautious... Anyway, so that's where we're at. Oh! Your gear was pretty much destroyed by the way- we're in the process of remaking it... But for now?” A hologram appears at the end of her fingertips as she leans over to show him. It's a solid white set of tactical gear with a new mask, identical to the old one except that this one is chrome.

“A new look for a new, official operative... Especially since, the UN has said, if you ever go rogue at any point, if you ever _leave_ Overwatch before what is being considered a _natural_ retirement age for someone with your... Condition... Then your sentence is waiting for you, in prison. There's no surveillance anymore, but you have to be loyal. Those are their terms. You can wear the new outfit if you want, but I don't think anyone's going to be upset if you don't... White might look good on you, anyway,” She shrugs, “A gift from Winston and the rest of the crew... A thank-you for saving our asses.”

“I see...” He said simply, looking over the outfit before looking back to her. “And what exactly _is_ retirement age for someone like me, Sombra?”

“Mmh. No clue. They're still assessing it based on how slowly you age. So far they're saying you could live into your two-hundreds.”

“ _Ugh. Lucky me._ ”

“Heh. Yeah. _Lucky you._ ” Sombra does not sound envious, at all. She gets up to stand and starts to move away, shrugging lightly as she half turns back to look at him. “You know it's just a little bit of a shame.”

“What is?”

“I mean... That you weren't able to save everyone...”

Gabriel is immediately offended, his face screwing up with anger.

“ _What the hell?_ Look, I did as much as I could-”

 

“Oh, I know, Gabe. Look. Calm down. I'm not judging you, okay? It's just...” Her eyes turn down somewhat, and she smiles. Striding back to him, she reaches into her pocket and produces something. It's a small square of metal, a tablet, vaguely reminiscent of a Polaroid, except in the center is a still picture in stunning detail, which Gabriel's eyes comb over relentlessly as he accepts it from her. His anger fades.

 

A castle, gorgeous and secluded away from a small town, surrounded with deep navy water and trees in every direction in hills surrounding the lake, the silhouette of a thin woman's figure leaning against one of the balconies, her back to the camera. It's dated a week after the explosion in Tokyo.

 

“I know that you let her go, Gabriel.” And the wraith says nothing. He can't, because in a way, he's ashamed. He had hoped that this wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass, but now, here it was. Sombra, seeing his silence, continues. “Don't feel bad. I know why you did it,” Sombra says, holding her hand out for the picture, wanting it back. “You did it because you were pulled out of that hell. Because you got saved when there was no hope for you. And you want to believe that she can be saved, too. You don't want to feel like you abandoned her to that.”

 

“Olivia, I have seen into her eyes. She's gone. There _is no_ hope for Amelie Lacroix. _”_

 

Sombra looks down at him and reaches out once more, holding up her hand as she shows him a tiny piece of footage. It's from a few months ago, when he was imprisoned at Alcatraz. The footage is obviously from some kind of drone, possibly tiny, that Widow never even knew was there. He sees her lining up her shots. Then, her body goes perfectly still, nudging the rifle so minutely that he can barely follow the motion, and he knows that she's tracking him from far away. She has him in her sights, the perfect shot ready to be fired... The way she did with every target. He'd seen her do it a hundred times at least, and he knows without a question that she has him lined up for death. Finally, she stops, and takes the shot.

 

But at the last second, she jerks her rifle, causing the bullet to miss a fatal blow by only a fraction, while she curses at herself in a long string of french that he doesn't understand before she suddenly grapples away.

 

 

_She had deliberately thrown the shot._

 

 

Sombra leans forward and whispers between the two of them, Gabriel's words in her mind.

 _There is no hope for Amelie Lacroix._ Sombra smiles faintly, meeting his stare.

 

 

 

“ _... Isn't there?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Thanks so much for reading, guys! I know a ton of you were waiting for this, so here it is! Please tell me your thoughts in the comments, and again, I can't express to you guys how much writing this and sharing it with you has been an absolute joy for me. This is probably one of the projects I am most proud of to have completed.
> 
> If you like R76, and you like this story, or you like me and would like to follow my other works, if you're a mature adult, please join our discord server. All my other fanfictions will be linked there first, before tumblr or anywhere else.
> 
> https://discord.gg/uetujrT
> 
> And, on a related note, I'm going to be doing a picture-day in-game with Haunted readers and fans over a couple weekends in the next coming weeks. If you'd like to join us for pictures and games, please join the discord so that you can be added and brought to the event. Please be 18 or mature enough that we assume you're 18 anyway, any disruptions will be removed. Official dates and times of the pictures/game days are TBD.
> 
> As always, I adore doing this stuff, but it unfortunately isn't especially lucrative, but if you would like to support me, I do addept Ko-fi's and am accepting art commissions.  
> To coffee me: ko-fi.com/trishields  
> The commission me, or simply see examples of my work: http://trishields.weebly.com/pricing.html  
> http://trishields.weebly.com/commission-form.html
> 
> I DO have a sequel to Haunted planned! I am expecting to put out the first chapters this summer, maybe around July, though I do not have a solid arrival date yet. People on my discord server will know about it first!
> 
> Also:
> 
> Quite a few people have expressed an interest in having a physical copy of Haunted, and I am considering releasing one after some extensive re-reading and checking over. But, as I'm sure you can guess, printing books is expensive, and printing Haunted would be a massive undertaking. Someone on my server told me that it was something like almost 900 pages long? So I would most likely have to split Haunted into multiple books, and I'm considering that, if I do so, I may also include art with it, one or two for each chapter, in color or black and white, not necessarily done by me, but art all the same. If there's a lot of interest, I may be looking for artists to help with this project.
> 
> Is this something that would interest you, and if so, how much would you be willing to pay for a physical copy of the book (or each of the three books) and which quality would you prefer it in? I would have to accept pre-orders of course, and know that, I would need to have at least 20 interested readers before I could even consider doing the project. This is because most online printing companies do not print quantities smaller than that (and it simply wouldn't be worth the hassle to print less than that). Consider that most fan-zines are around $35 for the higher quality, paperback versions- and that's for one book that wouldn't be nearly as big as Haunted would need to be to encompass it's novel-size length.
> 
> As A heads up, I have no idea if I'd even do this project or how I'd go about it. This is just a very loose idea that we've been tossing around. I might end up doing something via patreon allowing people to donate for it as a reward instead of outright selling it- that would mean including other rewards like art prints and such that I'd be doing anyway, which is primarily what you'd be pledging for.
> 
> My husband has... Also tossed in the idea of me including a few significantly more *cough* explicit chapters for Patrons to read as well, that could be included into the story. Does this interest you?
> 
> Please, please let me know. Thanks again so much for joining me on this journey. I can't wait to write the next story for you!


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